Jonathan Alderton and the Sorcerer's Stone
by yoneld
Summary: Jonathan Alderton is a normal eleven-year-old kid. Until he gets a letter to a special school for wizards... Ah, why do I even bother. I suck at summaries. Rated T just in case.
1. The Letter (An Owl Hits Me In The Head)

_A/N: Hi there! I decided to work on a new fic. I always wondered what it would be like going to Hogwarts and being one of Harry's friends, so I decided to do a self-insert. This is really a self-insert. Jonathan Alderton is me (that's not my real name, of course; Jonathan is the English version of my name, which is in Hebrew, and Alderton is an Anglicization (that's what you call it when you make something English) of my last name, which is also in Hebrew), and Mary and Taylor are my sisters (those were much harder to Anglicize, because my sisters' names have no English equivalent. Neither does my baby sister's name, but I don't have to worry about that until Year 3). The only differences between us are the names and the birth dates/places; we weren't born in Britain, 1980, 1984, and 1987, but in Israel, 1998, 2002, and 2005. The baby was born in 2011, which would be 1993 in this timeline, so I don't have to worry about putting her in the story until just before Year 3 starts. Oh, and the Fourth of July really is my birthday. Siriusly, I'm not kidding._

_So this is going to be told in the first person, through my POV. Hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, except my self-insert and his family.

Hi there. My name is Jonathan Alderton. I'm eleven years old and... well, if you want to find out more about me, just keep reading.

It all started on the morning of July 4, 1991 – my eleventh birthday. I had finished year six at King's Hedges Primary School in Cambridge, England, four days previously. I had been planning to sleep in, as I usually do on summer mornings, but I was woken up by my sisters bursting into my room and yelling, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

"It's my birthday?" I asked groggily.

"Of course it is, silly!" said six-year-old Mary.

I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. 8:15. "Why'd you have to wake me up so bloody early on my bloody birthday?" I asked them.

"Mummy told us to!" said three-year-old Taylor. "She told us to wake you up and get you into the sitting room to see the –"

"Taylor!" Mary yelled. "Don't tell him about it!"

I sat up on my bed. My room might have looked big, if there weren't so many things scattered all over the place. There were many posters from all the different places my mum went to hanging on the walls. There was a desk next to the bed with a computer on it, and a bookshelf above it. I had so many books on the shelves that I started putting new books on my desk. I read a lot. Across the room from the desk, there was a brown cupboard with silver handles.

"Tell me about what?" I asked.

"Nothing," Mary said quickly. She was obviously hiding something. A surprise party, maybe?

"Well," I said, "can you two please get out so I can get dressed and go see the nothing?"

"Yes, birthday brother!" said Taylor. And they left.

I opened the cupboard. There was a mirror on the inner side of the door. I looked at myself, taking in that I was eleven now. I didn't look like it. If I had to guess how old the boy in the mirror was, I would say he was nine or just barely ten. I was very short for eleven, and very thin. I had light brown hair, which was currently suffering from a bad case of pillow hair, and brown eyes.

I put on a T-shirt and some shorts, got out of my room, and went downstairs, almost tripping down the stairs twice. I was very clumsy.

When I got into the sitting room, I was greeted by the entire sixth year at King's Hedges Primary School singing "Happy Birthday To You". I was ushered to a large chair by my best friends Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas.

"How the bloody hell did you manage to wake everyone up?" I asked once I sat down on the chair.

"Wasn't easy," said Dean. "We all agreed to be here at 7:30 –"

"Oh, please," I said. "Don't tell me it took forty-five bloody minutes to set everything up."

"Would you let me finish? We agreed to be here at 7:30 and wake you up at 7:45, but Steve forgot to make the wake-up calls, so I had to make them instead, and we were only all here at 8:00."

"Dean," I said, shaking my head, "you seriously trusted _Steve Warren_ to remember something? His memory is even worse than mine, and I only remember things because Hermione knows to remind me at the very last moment! Please don't tell me Hermione agreed to this."

"I didn't," Hermione said. "I told Dean to tell someone more reliable to do it, but he wouldn't hear a word of it."

At that moment, my parents and sisters came in with a large chocolate cake with whipped cream and a picture of me for frosting, with twelve candles stuck in it.

"Make a wish," said my mum.

"Er… good school next year?" I said, and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and lifted my chair up eleven times. We had a game of pass-the-parcel – the prize was a Spring-o, and the winner was Steve Warrens.

"Nice!" I said. "Just make sure you don't lose it."

"That's rich, coming from you," said Steve.

"At least I have Hermione to remind me of things, and I do remember stuff on my own occasionally," I said.

We moved on to the food. I had a large slice of the cake, which was exquisitely delicious. When we all finished our pancakes, we played musical chairs, and I won – not because I'm fast or coordinated, but because I have very good reflexes. My system is compensative in many ways; I'm not very coordinated – I can't aim a ball or walk on a flat surface without tripping to save a life, but I've got very good reflexes – at dodge ball, I'm always the last one standing in my team. My memory is notoriously poor when it comes to tasks I need to do, but when it comes to facts, my memory is excellent and I'm usually the top of the class, and when I'm not, I'm second behind Hermione. I'm horrible at crude motors, like running or sports in general, but I'm very good at drawing and the only one in the class who has better handwriting than mine is Dean.

When the party was over, Dean and Hermione stayed to help with the cleanup. When we were throwing out the disposables, I was hit in the back of the head by something. I turned around to see an owl – a real, live owl – staring at me with a letter in its beak. Judging by Hermione's and Dean's "OW!" they were also hit by owls.

"Mummy, look!" Taylor cried. "Birdies in the sitting room!"

"Who let the owls in?" Mary asked.

"Don't owls sleep during the day anyways?" Dean said.

"They do," I said.

"Then what are three of them doing in your sitting room at 3:26 PM? _In broad daylight_?" asked Hermione.

As if in response, the owls dropped the letters into our hands.

The envelope was made out of parchment, was addressed to Mr. J. Alderton (that was me), and was sealed with a crest: A lion on a red background at the top right, a badger on a yellow background at the bottom right, an eagle on a blue background at the bottom left, a snake on green background at the top left, and a big H in the middle. I opened it.

_Dear Mr. Alderton_, it read,

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

I looked up. I saw Dean and Hermione had finished their letters too. Judging by their expressions, they had also been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

_A/N: You know why I'm ending it here? BECAUSE I CAN. Also, it's a dramatic way to end a chapter, and I like chapters that end dramatically. And I actually did the research on education in the UK and primary schools in Cambridge._

_**Review or you will be hit in the back of the head by an owl.**_


	2. Explanations (Witches Are Not All Bad)

_A/N: Hi there! I decided that from now on I'm more consistent with the updating. I can't fix a permanent day of the week, but I know I start working Saturday nights, so I can have it up as soon as possible. I'm really motivated with this fic, because I have pretty much everything up to Hogwarts planned out, so I don't have to deal with writer's block, and when I get to Hogwarts, it'll just go on naturally. I already know what House I'm going to be in. I think you all know too, judging by who my best friends are. I'm a Hufflepuff on Pottermore, but I talked with my sister and we came to the conclusion that I could do just fine in Gryffindor. And nobody told me I can't make a few slight changes. If I was following real life directly, I would have had my actual name, I would've grown up in Haifa, Israel, and I would've attended some Wizarding school in Israel or the States. And I'm going to make third year much better than my actual eighth grade year was. It was so bad I'm willing to take Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and all the rest of the Slytherins over what I had to deal with last year. If anyone remembers from my HP parody, there was a point in my life when I was in constant fear of getting my head chopped off by flying chairs. Well, that was last year. And chairs weren't the only things that flew, although they were the most common flying object. There were also flying desks, basketballs, people, once I even got a broom thrown at me. WHY DO YOU GIVE CRAZY EIGHTH-GRADERS BROOMS THAT THEY ARE PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF USING AGAINST UNPOPULAR CLASSMATES. KINDLY EXPLAIN. Oh, by the way, the reason I was unpopular was that, well, popularity was based on how low your brain/body ratio was. And my ratio happened to be slightly above average. I'm not gonna deny it – I'm pretty intelligent. And I am and always was a scrawny midget. So, while in some places (like the school I am currently attending), intelligent scrawny midgets are accepted, even welcomed, in others (like the school I attended last year) they are certainly not. Those *insert any strong negative word in the plural, preferably with many strong adjectives, Imma go with complete and utter jerks* even explicitly said they hated me. And then they called me a traitor when I told them I was switching. Excuse me, I'm not the one who kept throwing chairs around! And the worst thing was, the teachers didn't do anything. I mean, okay, I never really trusted teachers in that area, but the situation had already gone completely out of control by September 2. And school started on September 1. And they didn't even stay out of everything. A kid tied up another kid with duct tape as a joke and was kicked out. Some other kid strangled me, which is kind of attempted murder, and he got away with it. The next day was the first day of a three-day trip, and that kid was allowed to go. I asked my teacher WHY THE HECK WAS NOTHING DONE ABOUT THIS AND WHY WAS HE ALLOWED TO GO? Guess what the explanation was. I'll give you a hint: it wasn't "We're completely incompetent as teachers, therefore we can't do anything." It was "He doesn't understand it's wrong to choke people."_

_Ahem._

_**WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU? THE KID IS THIRTEEN!**__(Or was back then).__** A 13-YEAR-OLD BOY CAN UNDERSTAND IT'S WRONG TO TIE UP PEOPLE WITH PERMISSION WITH BOTH HIM AND THE PERSON HE'S TYING UP KNOWING IT'S A JOKE BUT NOT THAT IT'S WRONG TO, I DUNNO, **__**KILL PEOPLE WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION WITH BOTH HIM AND THE PERSON HE'S KILLING KNOWING IT'S MOST CERTAINLY NOT A JOKE**__**? JUST HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE?**__ Just for the record, that gives the expression "get away with murder" a whole new meaning. Oh, and after ten months of being through a living heck, I decided to stop taking it and fight back. And what happens? I have to write an essay, plus hear twenty different lectures on how wrong violence is. Now, normally, I'm a nonviolent person, but after ten months, I decided to stop taking it. So, when someone tripped me in the hallway and then started calling all his cronies to come and help him beat the crap out of me, I punched him in the face as soon as I got up. I'm sorry, but it was just too much. There's only so much a person can take before exploding. And for having reached that limit, I don't get assurance that it'll stop, but that it'll continue and they'll continue to get away with it. May I please remind you that another kid got away with trying to murder me? Oh wait, I just did. I'm sorry, but I had to get this off my chest. I've gone through things no child should ever have to go through, like daily attempts on my life, and I wouldn't wish this even on the guy who strangled me. Now they finally closed it down. Bet you $1,000,000 none of their reasons were that people can literally get away with murder at that horrible place. There's a poster with the Declaration of Children's Rights in Israel, and that school broke all of them except for one, which was something about the right to a home and clothes or something like that, which has nothing to do with school. Wait, was there something about education there? I think there is. Let me just check the Internet… Ahem._

_I have the right to grow up safely, peacefully, and healthily, and have a loving family. Broke that one._

_I have the right to be provided with food, clothing, home, and protection. Well… they did break the protection part._

_I have the right not to be hurt, harmed, or insulted. Broke that one big time._

_I have the right to learn, play, develop, and get the chance to prove myself. Broke that one, too._

_I have the right for my property and privacy not to be harmed. Broke that one big time._

_I have the right to a name and to belong to a place. I didn't feel like I belonged there, so… fail._

_I have the right to enjoy child protection laws. …_

_**THERE ARE CHILD PROTECTION LAWS? **__**HOW COME I NEVER HEARD OF THEM?!hgriwhnnoiucbeouyt487THFWHIWITWHF4RHYURyuuHJ IUTJ**_

_I have the right not to be excluded and to be treated as an equal – even if I'm different. Well, no two people are identical, so that's very vague, and they said even, so that applies if I'm not different, too (which I was there because I have a brain), so epic fail._

_I have the right to express my opinions and feelings. Has that __school__ juvenile prison ever hear of children's rights?_

_I have the right to be respected. Broke that one if nothing else._

_So, that place is officially a crime against childhood._

_If I ever become a teacher (and it won't be for the salary – the average middle school teacher in Israel gets paid __₪5,440 ($1,470) a month__) and one of those jerks' kids will be in my class, I won't Snape them. But if I find them guilty of bullying, they'll wish I'd have Snaped them. In general, I'm going to have a zero tolerance for bullying policy, but I'm going to be especially hard on the jerks' kids (if they bully, that is – otherwise, I'm not Snaping anyone) because that'll show me that like father, like son/daughter._

_Oh, and if you are reading this, iheartmwpp, I want you to know that I don't think your complaints sound like petulant whining. There's an old Hebrew saying that goes: "Don't judge a person until you've been in their place." I know just how bad not having any friends is. But at least I got a few years break in between. And there's another Hebrew proverb, which I completely agree with, that says: "Blows pass, words stay." Physical wounds will eventually fade. Emotional wounds are very hard to cure. Most of them don't. So I completely understand you._

_Disclaimer__:_ I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters except for my self-insert.

"Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry?" Dean asked, and we both looked at Hermione. If anyone knew about that school, it was her.

"Never heard of it," Hermione said.

"Well, that settles it," I said, clapping my hand on the table. "If Hermione hasn't heard of it, it must not exist."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jonathan," Hermione said. "I don't know about every school in the world. Besides, for all we know, it might not even be in the United Kingdom."

"31 July? 1 September?" Dean asked skeptically. "Pretty sure that's the British way of writing dates."

"Not necessarily," I said. "I've been to other countries in Europe, and they all write dates that way. But Hogwarts sounds English. It probably is somewhere in the UK."

"How do we know it even exists?" asked Hermione. "Maybe it's all just a big hoax?"

"Maybe," I said. "I mean, witchcraft? Wizardry? Witches and wizards don't exist."

"What's a hoax?" piped up Taylor.

"A deception," Hermione said.

"Just because you knew that word at the age of three, Hermione, doesn't mean everyone else did," I told Hermione. "A hoax is a practical joke, like on April Fools."

"Is it April Fools?" Taylor asked excitedly, her face lighting up. "I love April Fools!"

"No, sweetie," my dad said, "it's not April Fools, it's Jonathan's birthday. Maybe it is a hoax, but how did this person know how to find us?"

"And how did they know you two would be here?" my mum asked.

"Must be someone we know," I said.

Then Mary asked the million dollar question. "Who would it be?"

At that moment, someone rang the doorbell.

"I'll get it," I said and opened the front door. It was Dean's mother, Mrs. Thomas.

"Oi, Dean!" I shouted. "It's your mum! Come in, Mrs. Thomas…" I said, leading the way to the sitting room.

"Mum," Dean said when we walked in. "I just got this really strange letter." He showed her the letter.

"Hmm…" Mrs. Thomas took the letter, frowning. She read the letter, her frown deepening.

"Who would've written this? And how did they know you'd be here?" she asked.

"Hermione thinks it's a hoax. I think it's someone we know," I said.

The doorbell rang again, and my mum went to get it. A few seconds later she came in with Hermione's father, Mr. Granger.

"Dad," Hermione said.

"Ready to go?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Wait a moment," I said. "Show him the letter, Hermione."

"What letter?" Mr. Granger asked.

"It's not important – just a hoax," Hermione said.

"What letter?" Mr. Granger asked again.

"Oh, fine," Hermione said and grudgingly showed him the letter.

Mr. Granger read the letter.

"You're right," he said. "It probably is a hoax. But who would've sent it?"

"Jonathan thinks it's someone we know, as that's the only way they'd know we were all here," Hermione answered him.

"Well," Mrs. Thomas said. "We should be going now. Thanks for having him over."

"Are you kidding?" I asked. "Thanks for the fantastic party!"

"Don't mention it," said Dean.

"Thank you too, Hermione," I said.

"It was Dean's idea," she said.

"Well, 'bye," Dean said, and he and his mother turned towards the entrance. However, before they exited the sitting room, the doorbell rang again.

"Who could it be now?" I asked and went to open the door. There was a stern-looking woman wearing square glasses and emerald robes with a matching pointed hat and handbag.

"Good afternoon," she said. "Is this Jonathan Alderton's house?"

"Yes," I said, surprised. People didn't usually look specifically for _my_ house unless they knew me personally.

"And do Dean Thomas and Hermione Granger happen to be here?" she asked.

"Yeah, how d'you – "

"Later," she said. "Lead the way."

I led the way into the sitting room.

"Sit down," I told the woman. "You'd all better sit down, too," I told Dean and Hermione and their parents. "I have a feeling this is going to take a while."

"Would you like some tea?" asked my mum. "Or cake, we have loads –"

"No, it's fine," the woman said. "Sit down, Mrs. Alderton."

Everyone sat down.

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts," said the woman.

"You're the person who wrote the letters!" Dean exclaimed.

"I don't personally write them," said Professor McGonagall. "I just sign them. They are written magically."

"Magic," Hermione scoffed.

"Yes, magic," said Professor McGonagall. "You three have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Yes, that is what the letter said," Hermione said. "We can read, you know."

"Hermione!" Mr. Granger said. "Don't be rude."

"I came here, not to repeat the letter's contents, as I am sure that you can, indeed, read," said Professor McGonagall, "but to prove to you that you are wizards and a witch."

"Hey," I said angrily. "That's not a very nice thing to say to Hermione." If there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was my friends being insulted.

"I do not mean it as an insult," Professor McGonagall said. "I mean that Miss Granger here can do magic."

"Right," Hermione scoffed. "We all know it's a hoax."

"But how'd she know we'd all be here? And how'd she time it so that she'd come when both your parents were here?" I asked.

"I can turn into a cat," Professor McGonagall said.

"Prove it," Hermione said.

Professor McGonagall stood up, and, before our eyes, turned into a tabby cat with square markings around its eyes where her glasses were. After a few seconds, she turned back into a human.

"BLOODY WICKED!" Dean and I shouted in unison.

"You believe magic exists now, Hermione?" I asked.

"Oh… well…" she hesitated.

"You've got to believe it now!" Dean said excitedly.

"Well… yes," she replied grudgingly.

"Thank you," said Professor McGonagall. "Now, your birthday, Mr. Alderton, was on our registers –"

"What registers?" I asked.

"Every magical child that is born is registered by the Ministry of Magic and by a quill in a secret room at Hogwarts Castle," she answered.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Dean asked.

"Yes, it is our government," she said. "Now, as I was saying, there is a quill in a secret room at Hogwarts Castle that records not only magical children's births, but also their places of residence. I knew all three of you lived in the same ward in Cambridge, so I decided to send you all the letters on the same day – your birthday, Mr. Alderton. I came here, disguised as a cat, to check if Mr. Thomas and Miss Granger would attend your birthday party. When I saw that they were attending it, I decided to wait until everyone except maybe Mr. Thomas and Miss Granger left to come in. When I saw Mr. Thomas and Miss Granger were staying, I decided to wait by the window until their parents arrived to pick them up, and come in just when they were about to leave."

"So that was how you knew to send us the owls?" Dean asked.

"No, the owls are sent by our groundskeeper, and addressed by the quill," Professor McGonagall said.

"But how do we know for sure we're wizards and a witch?" I asked.

"Has anything strange happened around you when you were, perhaps, scared or angry?" Professor McGonagall asked.

I thought about it. Me being a wizard did explain something – like why I was able to move things with my mind. I'd discovered that ability about four years ago when we were flying to France. The plane's engine had died, and I wished we would move. Suddenly, the plane had simply lifted itself off the ground and carried itself the whole 228 miles to Paris Orly Airport, and by the time we landed fifteen minutes later, I was completely exhausted from the effort it took. I kept practicing my telekinesis, until, about six months later, I was able to move anything with my mind. I wasn't sure exactly how far my range was, but I knew it was at least around 120 feet, as I managed to lift the whole plane.

"I can move things with my mind," I told her. "Watch."

I concentrated on the cake, which was on the dining room table, and willed it to float. Never taking my eyes off the cake, I made it float towards the sitting room table, and, when it reached the table, willed it to sink onto the table. In the past, I had difficulties not simply dropping the objects, but I had mostly gotten over that when I was eight. Ever since I completely mastered my ability, I've been doing my assignments that way.

"Impressive," Professor McGonagall said. "Most young wizards and witches don't have that much control over their magic. Will I be seeing you all on 1 September?"

"I'll have to talk to my wife," said Mr. Granger.

"And I'll have to take to my husband," said Mrs. Thomas.

My parents exchanged looks.

"Do you want to go, Jonathan?" my mum asked me.

"Very," I said.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? If it's a castle, then it would probably be a boarding school," my dad said.

"Oh, he'll be okay," Professor McGonagall said. "And he'll be able to visit on Christmas and Easter. And he can write you."

"Well…" my mum hesitated.

"Please?" I asked.

"Okay," she said.

"Excellent," Professor McGonagall said. She put her hand in her handbag and pulled out two cages with owls and two bags of owl treats. She gave one cage and one bag to Dean and Hermione each.

"You carry owls in your handbag?" I asked. "How is there room for them?"

"It is always good to be prepared," she replied. "It's an undetectable Expansion Charm." She turned to Dean and Hermione. "Send us your answers with those owls. The cages will come to Hogwarts magically. They need to be fed a bowl of treats and water a day.

"School starts on 1 September. You need to take the 11:00 train from Platform 9¾ at King's Cross Station in London."

"But Platform 9¾ doesn't exist!" I said.

"It does," she said. "You need to run through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Your school things can be acquired at Diagon Alley, in London."

"Where is that?" I asked.

"Charing Cross Road, near Phoenix Theatre, through an inn called The Leaky Cauldron," she said. "You three will be able to see it from the street, but your parents will only be able to once they're inside. Once they've been in, they can also see it from the outside. When you get in, ask Tom the barman to get you to Diagon Alley.

"Well," she said, getting up, "I'll be going now."

"Do you want anything for the way?" my mum asked her.

"No, no, I am quite fine, thank you," she said. "Good day to you all."

I led the way to the door and opened it for her. "Goodbye," I said.

"I shall see you at Hogwarts," she said and left.

I went back into the sitting room.

"We'll be going, too," said Mr. Granger.

"Us, too," said Mrs. Thomas.

"Thanks for the party, Dean, Hermione," I said.

"Don't mention it," said Dean.

"It was Dean's idea," said Hermione.

I walked with them to the door. Mrs. Thomas opened it.

"Bye," said Dean.

"Bye," said Hermione.

"Bye," I said. "See you both at Hogwarts?"

"I hope," said Dean. And with that, they left.

_A/N: Twenty-three views in ten days – sixteen from the States, two from Poland, two from France, one from Israel, one from the UK, and one from Denmark. Just to show how much I appreciate it, I will now say thank you in all of your languages (BTW, English and Hebrew are my first languages)._

_Thank you._

_Dziękuję._

_Merci._

_תודה__. (todá)_

_Tak._

_And as an added bonus, the review threat will also be multilingual._

_**Review or Professor McGonagall will stalk you.**_

_**Przegląd lub Profesor McGonagall b**__**ędzie łodyga ciebie.**_

_**Revue ou le professeur McGonagall va vous traquer.**_

_**הגיבו או שפרופסור מקגונגל תעקוב אחריכם**__**. (hagívu o sheprofésor McGonagall ta'aqóv aharekhém)**_

_**Anmeld eller Professor McGonagall vil stilk dig.**_


	3. Summer (We're All Going To Hogwarts)

_A/N: I had a hearing check today (not because I have hearing problems, but as a checkup), and turns out I have 98% hearing (96% right, 100% left), which means it's really good. Maybe it compensates for my bad vision. And I'm only getting my eyes checked in August. As I said in the first chapter, my whole system is compensative: I'm a klutz, but I'm good at drawing; I'm horrible at sports, but I have good reflexes; my vision is horrible, but my hearing is excellent. And all my senses are better on the left side, even though I'm righty. My left eye is slightly better than my right eye (though they're both pretty bad), my left ear is better than my right ear (though they're both great), my left nostril is better than my right nostril (though they're both always clogged up), the left part of my tongue is more sensitive to tastes than the right part (no, not right as in not wrong, right as in not left), and my left side is more sensitive to touch than the right side (nothing to say about that). I also express myself more with my left side, that is, most of my hand gestures are done with my left hand and the left side of my face is more expressive than the right. After all this, you probably think I'm left-handed, right? Well, wrong. I'm right-handed. I guess each side of the brain is in charge of motors for the other side, but senses and expression for its own side. I also have very good language skills – I speak English, Hebrew, and Spanish fluently, I understand Catalan and Portuguese very well (although that has more to do with the fact that those languages are both very close Spanish, which I understand), and I can hold a conversation in French, German, Italian, and maybe Dutch, and I have basic understanding of Greek and Latin (since there are so many words in English and other languages from them). I'm also learning Arabic, and I know a few words in Russian. Not much, though. Just a few words I picked up (Israel has one of the largest concentrations of Russian speakers outside of former USSR states). Speaking of Russian, I wonder if I got any views from Russia… *checks traffic stats* Well, I didn't get any views from Russia, but I did get three more views from the States, one more view from Israel, and eight more views from Denmark, plus a view from Ireland. How the heck I get thirty-five views in two weeks, I have no idea. Just to thank you guys, the disclaimer and the review threat will be in all languages. Oh, and thank you in Irish._

_Go raibh maith agat._

… _Siriusly? Takes you four words to say thank you? And to think, in Danish it's just "tak". Well, I would also like to go raibh maith agat. Not that I know how to raibh maith agat._

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than the self-insert.

_Ansvarsfraskrivelse_: Jeg ejer ikke Harry Potter eller nogen af figurerne bortset fra min egen indsats.

_הצהרה_: אני לא הבעלים של הארי פוטר ולא של אף אחת מהדמויות, מלבד ההוספה העצמית שלי. (_Hatzharáh_: Aní ló ha-b'alím shel Harry Potter v'ló shel af ahát m'ha-d'múyot, milvád ha-hosafáh he-'atzmít shelí)

_Zrzeczenie si__ę_: Nie jestem właścicielem Harry Potter lub wszelkie znaki, inny niż mój własny wkładką.

_Désistement_: Je ne possède pas Harry Potter ou aucun des caractères, autre que mon auto-insert.

_Séanadh_: Ní féidir liom féin Harry Potter nó aon cheann de na carachtair, seachas mo féin-isteach.

The next day, I met Dean and Hermione at the park, which was a few minutes' walk from my house. I found them playing catch.

"Well?" I asked when I got there.

"Well, what?" Dean asked, catching the ball from Hermione. He and Hermione both walked over to me.

"You know perfectly well what," I said.

"No, I really don't," Dean replied. "What are you asking about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I said.

"No, it bloody well isn't," Dean said. "Will you just bloody tell me what is it?"

Hermione sighed. "Jonathan is asking whether we are going to Hogwarts or not," she said.

"Oh, that!" Dean said, snapping his fingers. "Well, I've got some bad news," he said gravely.

"Please don't tell me you're not going," I said.

"Don't know about Hermione, but I'm not going," he said.

Hermione looked at him for a second, and then said nervously, "I'm not going either."

Dean and I looked at each other and then burst out laughing. Hermione was such a terrible liar.

"Why are you two laughing?" she demanded.

"You really need to work on your lying skills," Dean said.

"Agreed," I said.

"Okay, you've got me," she said sheepishly. "I am going to Hogwarts."

"Knew it!" Dean said.

"Anything you'd like to tell us, Dean?" I asked, hoping to see if Dean was lying. He was all right at lying, but he needed to work on being caught off guard.

"What? No!" he said quickly.

"You are going, right?" Hermione said.

"No, I'm not…" he faltered. "Yes, I am."

"We're all going to Hogwarts!" I said excitedly. "You two want to come with my family to Diagon Alley? My parents said it's okay if your parents allow it."

"I'll ask and phone you." Dean said.

"Same here," Hermione said.

"Great!" I said. "So, let's celebrate with a game of flying catch!"

Flying catch was a modified version of catch we had invented a couple of years before involving my ability to move things with my mind. In the game, I move the ball through in the air with my mind, while the other players try to catch it. The game takes a certain amount of time agreed on by the players, and the player who managed to catch the ball the most times wins. If the ball was never caught, I win. At first, I almost never won and we couldn't play for very long because I got tired fast, but by now, I was so good at moving things with my mind that I won about as much as I lost and we could play for thirty minutes before I started getting really tired.

We decided to play for twenty minutes. Dean threw the ball in the air, and I started moving it. It took a lot of concentration, but it was fun. I always had to make the ball escape Dean and Hermione, and they had gotten good at that game. The game was won by Dean by a margin of 1 point (Hermione didn't catch the ball at all). We a few more games, and by the time we finished, I was utterly exhausted. We sat down to catch our breath.

"Good game," I said after about a minute. "Took a lot of effort."

"I bloody well hope so," said Dean, standing up. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said, standing up too. "Hermione?"

"I'll be here," she said, also standing.

"Ask your parents and phone me, both of you," I said.

"Will do," Dean said.

"Well, 'bye," I said.

"'Bye," Dean said, leaving.

"Goodbye," Hermione said.

I walked back to my house and rang the doorbell. Mary opened it.

"Hi," I said and came in. "Are Mum and Dad home?"

"Mum is," she said. "But Dad's at work. He took Taylor with him today."

"Is she in her study?" I asked.

"No, I told you, she's at Dad's –"

"No, not Taylor, Mum," I said. "Is she in her study?"

"Yes," she said.

I opened the door to the study, which was just off the entrance hallway. Sure enough, my mum was there, looking neck-deep in work. My mum worked as a professor for Cambridge University. Sometimes, she stayed home to grade papers or write articles.

"Hi, Mum," I said. "I'm home."

"Did you have fun with your friends?" she asked, looking up from the papers she was grading.

"Yeah, I sure did," I said. "Dean and Hermione are coming to Hogwarts."

"That's great!" she said. "Did you invite them to come with us to London?"

"Yeah, they said they'd ask and phone me," I answered. "How's your day been?"

"I've been grading papers all day. Still got some theses to grade, and then I have an article to write for my next conference."

My mum went to a lot of conferences. Some of them were in the country, some were abroad. "Where's your next conference?" I asked her.

"In Israel," she said.

"Oh," I said. I didn't know too much about Israel, except that it had lots of rockets thrown at it last year. "Isn't it a bit dangerous?"

"Not really," she said. "Things are mostly like they are here. People are a bit ruder, but that's the Israeli mentality."

"Oh, okay," I said and left her study.

"There's French toast in the fridge," she called.

"Thanks!" I called back. I went to the kitchen, warmed up some French toast in the microwave oven, and ate it. I spent the rest of the afternoon playing several board games with Mary. She often beat me at chess and checkers, but I beat her at backgammon and Battleships. Around 4:00 PM, my dad and Taylor came back home.

"Hi, Dad, Taylor," I said, taking Mary's queen with my rook. "Check," I said to Mary.

"Hi," Mary said, moving her bishop in front of her king.

"Hi, kids," Dad said. "Have you been playing all day?"

"No," I said. "I woke up at 10:30 and went to the park with Dean and Hermione. Came back around 1:00. Been playing with Mary since I came back." I moved my bishop and took Mary's. "Checkmate," I said and stood up.

"Are Dean and Hermione going to Hogwarts?" my dad asked.

"Yes," I said. "I invited them to come with us to London and they said they'd phone me with their answers."

At that exact moment, the phone rang. My dad picked it up. "Hello?" he said. He listened for a few seconds and then looked at me and said, "It's for you."

I went over to the phone and took the handset from my dad. "Hello?" I said into the phone.

"Jonathan?" asked Dean's voice out of the phone. "Is that you?"

"Yes," I said. "Dean?"

"Yeah," he said excitedly. "My parents said I can come with you!"

"Great!" I said happily. "We're going on 31 July. Still not sure if Hermione's coming, though…"

"Maybe she'll call soon," Dean said.

"Maybe," I agreed. "Bye!"

"Bye," Dean said. I had barely managed to hang up before the phone rang again. I picked it up.

"Hello?" I said.

"Am I speaking to Jonathan?" asked a familiar female voice.

"Yes," I said. "Hermione?"

"Yeah, it's me," she said. "My mum says I can come."

"Great," I said. "We're going on 31 July. Dean's also coming."

"So I'll see you then," she said.

"Have you already forgotten our plans for the summer?" I asked. "And they say I have a horrible memory!"

"Of course I haven't forgotten," she said. "Bye."

"Bye," I said and hung up. "Hermione and Dean are both coming," I told my family.

"Great," my mum said. "Now sit down for tea."

I sat down and we all had tea.

_A/N: Sorry it's short, but I feel like this is a good place to end it. Tune in next week for some more!_

_**Review or you will be beaten at chess every time you play.**_

_**Gennegmå eller du vil bilve slået i skak hver gang du spiller.**_

_**הגיבו או שתנוצחו בשחמט כל פעם שתשחקו **__**(hagívu o she-t'nutzhú be-sháhmat kol pá'am she-t'sahaqú).**_

_**Przeglądu lub zostanie pobity w szachy każdym razem grać.**_

_**Revoir ou vous serez battu aux échecs chaque fois que vous jouez.**_

_**Athbhreithniú nó a bheith an fosta ag fichille gach uar a imríonn tú.**_


	4. Camp (I Get A Stuttering Teacher)

_A/N: Greetings from France! I'm still trying to digest the fact that nobody is throwing chairs at/beating the crap out of/trying to choke me, and BAM! It's June. How quickly the year flew by! Ah well, time does fly when you're enjoying yourself. The world is completely upside down. Why does time go by so quickly when you're enjoying yourself, and not move when you most certainly aren't enjoying yourself! It makes no sense at all! It makes whole dollars! Probably not much though, everyone knows you don't get a salary for doing any good for people. Why do you think teachers and doctors get such a low salary?_

_In other news, guess who issued a travel warning for Turkey? No, not Israel, not the States, the UK did but I'm not talking about them. That's right, Syria issued a travel warning for Turkey. The reason? "The Government of Syria is concerned about the safety of civilians due to the escalation of security conditions in Turkish cities and the violence of Erdogan's government against peaceful protesters." Very funny, Assad. Absolutely hilarious. Oh, and guess what Syrian Public Relations Minister Umran Zuabi said? "Recep Tayyip Erdogan must stop the violent repression of protesters or resign." Hilarious, considering what your own president is doing. Does anyone else see the irony in this?_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than my self-insert.

Our plans for the summer were a summer camp, organized by Hermione, Dean, and me. We had signed everyone up at the end of the school year, and the camp started on 5 July. We were all to be there at 10:00, and the roll call was at 10:05 sharp. Hermione, Dean, and I had agreed to be there earlier so we can set things up. We took money for it, because we also gave the kids who had signed up lunch. We had bought everything we'd need for the first day on a loan from our parents, promising we'd return the money after getting paid. Hermione had estimated the total expenses to be at around £2000, which meant £100 per day, and since there were 30 places, each kid paid £67 for the whole camp. That gave us an extra £10.

The kids started arriving just when Hermione and I had finished setting up the coolers and the cup dispensers. We had four coolers: one for water, one for grape juice, one for orange juice, and one for apple juice.

"All right with the sandwich stand, Dean?" I called out to him.

Dean gave me the thumbs-up.

I looked at my watch. 10:04. It was almost time for roll call. "Are we good?" I asked Dean and Hermione.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"Yes, sir," said Dean.

"Sir," I repeated, smiling. "I like that."

Hermione looked at her watch. "I think it's time," she said.

"All right," I said to her and turned to the crowd. "EVERYONE! LISTEN! UP!" I shouted, and everyone listened up.

"Don't shout at them!" Hermione reproached me.

"Anything works to get them to listen," I shrugged. "All right," I called to everyone. "Anyone who's not here, please raise your hands!"

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Hermione roll her eyes. "Jonathan, please be serious," she said.

"Sirius is a star in the Canis Major constellation," I told her. "Do you want me to turn into a star?"

"Jonathan!" she said menacingly.

"Okay, okay," I said and started calling names out of a piece of paper. Everyone was there.

We spent the rest of the day getting everyone to know each other. At noon, everyone made themselves sandwiches. We let everyone go around 2:00 PM.

Every day, we had a different activity planned. The camp's last day was 26 July.

On 31 July, I was woken up by Mary at 7:00 AM.

"Jonathan!" she said. "Wake up!"

"What's the time?" I asked groggily.

"7 o'clock. Get up!" she said, and started turning the lights on and off.

"Quit it!" I said.

"That's the only way you'd ever get up," she explained.

I sat up. "And is there any particular reason _why_ _you are waking me up at 7 o'clock_?" I asked her angrily.

"Because we're going to that Diagon Alley place!" she said. "Now, if you want to come and choose your own stuff for that wizard school then get up!"

"Well, can you please get out so I can get dressed?" I asked irritably.

"Okay, okay," she said. "No need to be so angry!" And with that, she left. I closed the door after her and put on a T-shirt and some shorts. I came down to the kitchen and found my mum and Mary eating breakfast.

"Morning," I said and helped myself to some toast. "Where's Dad?"

"He's gone to get Dean and Hermione," my mum said. "Mary, can you please go wake up Taylor?"

"Yes, Mummy," she said and went upstairs to wake up Taylor.

"How long is it from here to London?" I asked Mum.

"A few hours," she said. "You'd better ask your father. Speaking of whom, he should be here right about now."

Mary came into the kitchen. "Taylor's coming in a few minutes," she said.

I heard the front door open and close. My dad came in with Dean and Hermione.

"Hi," I said to them.

"Hi," Dean said.

"Hi," Hermione said.

"Are you two ready to go?" I asked them.

"Yeah, my dad gave me some money to use there," Dean said. "100 pounds. Hope it'll be enough."

"I got 100 pounds too," Hermione said. "Do you think they use the same money as us?"

"I don't see any reason why they wouldn't," I said. "I mean, from the little I could tell from that letter and Professor McGonagall, they use the same dates as us, and they speak English."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Everybody knows English."

"First of all, not everybody," I said. "When we went to France, nobody there knew a word of English."

"Yes, well," she said, "the school is in Britain."

"Professor McGonagall never said that it was," Dean said. "She just said we had to take the train from Kings' Cross."

"Well, if you could get there by train, it must be in Britain!" she said.

"Not necessarily," I said. "There's a train tunnel connecting Britain and France. We traveled through that tunnel on our way back. For all we know, this school could be anywhere in Europe."

"But it's still not likely," she said. "The school's name is Hogwarts. That sounds pretty English to me."

"Maybe it's in Gibraltar," I said. "Or maybe the train is taking us somewhere we can teleport to… I don't know, maybe America or Australia!"

"But Professor McGonagall teaches there, and she sounded pretty British to me," she said.

I rolled my eyes. Hermione was so stubborn. "I've been to Australia, and the Australian accent is pretty similar to the British accent," I told her. "Or maybe she's originally British, and she moved to Australia to teach at Hogwarts."

My dad coughed. "When you're done arguing about where Hogwarts may be, come to the car," he said. "We want to leave."

"Right," I said sheepishly. Hermione and I could argue about those things for hours on end. We all got in the car.

It was an hour and a half drive to London. My mum used a map to navigate through the city to Charing Cross Road. When we got on Charing Cross Road, my dad told Dean, Hermione, and me to keep an eye out for the Leaky Cauldron. Dad drove slowly down the street, passing several shops. Hermione, Dean, and I kept our eyes out for the Leaky Cauldron. We passed a music shop and a bookstore (Hermione looked like she was itching to get out of the car) and –

"There it is!" Mary shouted, pointing out of the window. "The Leaky Cauldron!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mary, you can't see it, Professor McGonagall said only wizards could – Holy cricket!" I exclaimed. Mary had been right. The Leaky Cauldron was, indeed, there.

"Well, maybe I am a witch," Mary said.

"Maybe," I said. I pushed the door open. "Taylor, can you see it?"

"Yeah," she said.

"All right," I said. "I'll take Dad. Mary, take Mum in."

I grabbed my dad's hand and led him in, while Mary led my mum in.

We were in a dimly lit tavern. There were many people in robes sitting around the tables. I looked for the bar and found it on the left.

"Over there," I said, pointing at the bar. We all went towards it.

"Yes?" the barman said.

"Hi," my mum said. "We're here for Hogwarts shopping?"

A man in purple robes wearing a purple turban stepped towards us. "H-Hogwarts?" he asked with a stutter. "I t-t-teach there. I'm P-P-Professor Q-Q-Quirrell, and I t-t-teach D-D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," I said politely. "I'm Jonathan, and these are my friends, Dean and Hermione."

"Pleasure," Dean said.

"Likewise," Hermione said.

"F-f-follow m-m-me," Professor Quirrell stuttered and walked towards the back door. We followed him. "After you," I said.

He opened the door. We were in a courtyard with a few bins in the corner. Professor Quirrell strode briskly to the opposite wall and tapped one of the bricks, which was slightly pushed in. The wall split into two to reveal a wide cobbled-stone alley lined with shops.

"W-w-welcome," Professor Quirrell said, "t-t-to D-D-Diagon Alley."

_A/N: Sorry for cutting it here, I just had to end it so that the chapters would match the book chapters._

_**Review or you will be plagued with the stutters.**_


	5. Diagon Alley (Is Everything Real Now?)

_A/N: This chapter is being co-written with my sister._

**yoneld's sister**: Hi. Wait, who am I in the story?

**yoneld**: Uh…. I forgot.

**yoneld's sister**: Please be serious!

**yoneld**: Sirius is a character in the HP series. He's not coming until –

**yoneld's sister**: *grabs laptop* Stop spoiling it! They don't want you to tell them that Sirius is only coming in Year –

**yoneld**: *grabs laptop back* THANK YOU. That will be all.

**yoneld's sister**: I still don't know who I am in the story.

**yoneld**: Okay, okay, stop looking at me like that! You're Mary.

**yoneld's sister**: Mary? Seriously?

**yoneld**: Well, I can't use your real name, because that's not British!

**yoneld's sister**: *tries and fails to do a British accent* Is that British enough for you?

**yoneld**: *laughs his head off at his sister's failed British accent*

**yoneld's sister**: I know, I know, I can't do a British accent to save a life. How about an Israeli accent? *Israeli accent* Weed en Izreili eccent, yoo say ket eensted ov cat, like my old Eengleesh teachair. I teenk my Eengleesh eez better den hairs.

**yoneld**: *Israeli accent* I know, eet drives me ebsolootly crazy.

**yoneld's sister**: Okay, now seriously.

**yoneld**: *pouts* You're no fun.

_So yeah, that's my sister. She's basically an Israeli version of Hermione, minus the love for studying._

**yoneld's sister**: The lessons are so boring, they make me want to do this: *imitates baby sister* Sleep. Zzzzzzzzzzzz….

**yoneld**: *British accent* But surely you must be learning something?

**yoneld's sister**: Uh…. Does Bible count?

**yoneld**: *British accent* I must say that I am sorely disappointed at a school that teaches nothing.

**yoneld's sister**: *cracks up* You sound like Hermione.

**yoneld**: No, this sounds like Hermione. *British falsetto* Hello, I'm Hermione. *laughs*

**yoneld's sister**: *laughs*

**yoneld**: Are you done laughing?

**yoneld's sister**: Yes. Now PLEASE GET BACK ON TRACK.

**yoneld**: I needed that eardrum!

_... I forgot what I was going to say in the Author's Note._

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, other than Jonathan.

We stepped out of the courtyard into the cobbled street.

"Y-y-your f-f-first s-s-stop is G-G-Gringotts, the W-W-Wizarding b-b-bank," said Professor Quirrell, pointing at a large white marble building. "After th-th-that, y-y-you can s-s-start your sh-sh-shopping."

"Where do we buy everything on the list?" my dad asked.

"The sh-sh-shop n-n-names are pretty s-s-self-explanatory," Professor Quirrell said. "Y-y-you'll kn-kn-know where to g-g-go."

And with that, he left.

"Oh-kay," Mary said. "That man was weird."

"I agree," I said. "And don't forget, I'm going to have to deal with him the whole year, he's my teacher."

Mary shuddered. "If I had such a teacher, I would catch his st-t-tutter."

"You already did," I informed her.

"No, I haven't," she said. "I'm just pretending."

We stopped at a large marble building and stared at it in silence for a while.

I decided to break the silence. "Whoa," I said in awe.

"Indeed," Hermione said.

We walked to the door. There was a sign that said:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

And on that ominous note, we went in.

The bank didn't look like a bank. Most banks I'd seen had ATMs on the outside and the inside generally did not look like a hotel lobby, but like, well, a bank. The clerks usually sat in office chairs inside booths, and not on high chairs by long, high desks, and they were generally human, not goblins. I'd never even known goblins existed before that, but then again, I'd never known magic existed either, so it wasn't all that surprising.

We went to one of the desks. Mary could barely reach the top, and I had to lift my head slightly to be able to see the clerk.

"Hello," my dad said. "We'd like to open bank accounts."

"Are you wizards?" the goblin clerk asked.

"They are," Dad said, gesturing to Hermione, Dean, and me.

"Do you have any means of identification?" the clerk asked.

"Yes," Dad said, taking three ID cards out of his shirt pocket and handing them to the clerk, who looked at them.

"Jonathan?" he asked. I waved to him.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"That's me," she said meekly.

"Dean?" he asked. Dean waved to him. The clerk gave my dad the ID cards.

"Can I see your hands? All three of you?" he asked.

We each put one of our hands on the desk.

"Since when do bank clerks ask for your hand?" Mary whispered to me.

"Shh," I said.

The clerk took a strange metal instrument out of a drawer in his desk. "This shows me if you three are indeed wizards and a witch as you say." He passed it twice over each one of our hands. It was very cold to touch.

"All seems to be in order," he said. "Under which names do you wish to open the vault?"

"Alderton, Granger, and Thomas," my dad said.

"You will have to put a deposit of 300 Galleons in each vault," the clerk said.

"I'm sorry," my dad said. "We're non-magical. Do you accept pounds sterling?"

"You need to make an exchange," the clerk said. "The basic monetary unit of the Wizarding world is a Galleon. The Galleon-pound exchange rate is £1.23 per Galleon. A Galleon is divided into seventeen Sickles, and a Sickle is divided into twenty-nine Knuts. Four Knuts equal one penny."

"I understand," my dad said.

"There is an exchange clerk right across from me," the clerk said.

"Thank you," Dad said, and we walked over to the exchange clerk.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I would like to make an exchange," Dad said.

"What currencies?" the clerk asked.

"Pounds sterling to Galleons," he said.

"Give me the amount of cash you want to exchange," the clerk said, and Dad gave him twelve hundred-pound notes. The clerk took them and gave him seven gold coins, one silver coin, and two bronze coins.

"Thank you," Dad said and looked at the coins. "Let me see… that's a five-hundred-Galleon coin… those two are two hundreds… that's a fifty… that's a twenty… that's a two… and that's a one. The silver one is ten Sickles… and the bronze ones are a twenty-Knut and a one-Knut. Can you please exchange the five-hundred and the two-hundreds to one-hundreds?"

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," Dad said, giving him three of the gold coins.

"Here you go," the clerk said, handing my dad nine gold coins.

"Thank you," my dad said and we walked over to the other clerk.

"Well?" the clerk asked, noticing us.

"We have the money in Galleons," Dad said. "Here's the deposit, and we would like to make a hundred-Galleon withdrawal from each account."

"Very well," he said. "Give me six hundred Galleons."

My dad gave him six gold coins.

"Thank you," he said. "Here are the keys to your vaults – 810 - Alderton, 811 - Granger, and 812 - Thomas."

My dad took the keys and handed me the 810 key, Hermione the 811 key, and Dean the 812 key.

"Thank you," he said.

"My pleasure," the clerk said. "Have a nice day."

We got out of the bank and stepped out onto the street.

"So, where shall we go first?" I asked.

"The bookshop!" Hermione said excitedly.

"The bookshop? You have a reading class? You're so lucky!" Mary said.

"I don't think we have a reading class," I said. "_The Standard Book of Spell, Grade One_ doesn't sound like reading material to me. I'm pretty sure those are our textbooks."

"Oh… that's no fun," Mary said. "And why is Hermione so excited about textbooks? Actually, excited isn't the word. She's extremely excited. Actually, it's more than extremely. Actually – "

"Okay, that's enough," I cut her off. Mary tended to ramble on about those things forever. "I get your point. That's Hermione, okay? She loves textbooks. But I wouldn't mind going into the bookshop either, I'm sure I could buy some other books, too." Mary and I were just as bookworm-ish as Hermione, but we didn't share her love for studying and textbooks (even though I had gotten a 95 average on my report card without even trying, and that was including my sports grade of 80 – the best I had gotten in my life and most of the points were for good attendance and because we had baseball and football units – I was great at batting and goalkeeping). "But first, we need to find the bookshop."

"Well, Hermione is mad for books and learning," Mary said.

"Hey!" Hermione protested.

"And isn't that the bookshop?" Mary said, ignoring Hermione and pointing at a store with a sign that said _Flourish & Blotts_, with two quills by the side.

"That does look like a bookshop," Dean said. We walked over to the bookshop and went in.

Inside were books of all sizes and shapes. Hermione looked like she could stay here for all eternity. I wasn't too eager to leave myself.

"Before you lot wander off," my mum said, noticing us looking around the shop, "find your textbooks. Then, you each have thirty Galleons to spend on books."

"No problem," I said. I went over to the cashier and asked the seller if there was a first-year book pack.

"Yes," he said, pointing to a shelf in the back of the shop. "There are textbooks. We prepared everything first-years would need."

"Thanks," I said. "Do you have any baskets?"

"Yes," the bookseller said. "That stand right there, by the door."

"Thanks," I said again and went over to the door. I took three baskets – one for me, one for Hermione, and one for Dean. We all went over to the back of the shop and got one first-year set for each one of us. Dean went to the front to pay for his books, and Hermione and I wandered around the shop to find some books. I ended up buying _The Muggle's Guide to the Wizarding World_, _Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more)_, and _Quidditch Through the Ages_. The total price was fourteen Galleons. We paid for the books and got out.

We got our robes fitted at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions (I had the smallest size), our cauldrons at Potage's Cauldron Shop, our potion ingredients at the Apothecary, and the rest of our magical equipment at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. The only thing remaining on the list was the wand and a pet (optional).

"Mum," I asked. "Can I please get a pet owl?"

My parents looked at each other. They didn't like the idea of us having pets.

"Please?" I begged.

"I don't want it to mess up the house," my mum said.

"It won't," I said. "It'll stay in my room. I'll clean its cage and everything. It can fly outside."

"Oh, well," she said. "I suppose you can have one for a reasonable price."

"Thanks, Mum!" I said happily and we went into the Eeylops Owl Emporium. I looked for a while at the different owls. In the end I bought a brown-and-white barn owl for ten Galleons, cage and food and all. I thanked my mum again for letting me buy the owl while running different names in my mind for it. The owl seemed very intelligent.

"Hmm," I said as we exited the shop, looking at the owl again. "I think I'll call you Athena," I said. She hooted happily.

"You're a smart owl, aren't you?" I said.

She hooted again, seeming to understand me.

We went into Ollivander's Wand Shop – Selling Wands since 382 B.C. and I rang the bell.

An old man with white hair and unblinking grey eyes came through.

"Hogwarts, aren't you?" he asked. "Yes, I get many of those this time of year." He took three tape measures and let them go in the air. The measures floated towards us and started taking different measures of us. While we were being measured, Mr. Ollivander explained how he made wands. After the tape measure measured the exact length of the bridge of my nose, Mr. Ollivander extended his hands and the measures floated back into it.

"Let's start with you, shall we?" he said, addressing me. He took a box out of one of the many stacks. "I think this will do," he said. "Black walnut, unicorn hair, ten inches, unyielding." He opened the box and handed me the wand, which was long and had a thick grip. "Give it a wave."

I took the wand, which felt warm in my hand. I gave it a wave, and it emitted red and gold sparks. I knew this one was mine – I felt it.

"Very good," he said. "This is the right wand for you. Let's try the others, then…"

Hermione's wand was vine wood with a dragon heartstring core and slightly longer than mine, with a less pronounced grip. Dean's was apple with a phoenix feather core and slightly shorter than mine, with a grip similar to Hermione's. We paid Mr. Ollivander one Galleon and four Sickles for the wands and exited.

We had a quick meal in Leaky Cauldron, got into the car, and drove back home.

_A/N: The wand is my actual Pottermore wand. And I'll probably be updating a lot now, because we go to the lobby of our hotel every evening and we try to write a chapter. It's surprisingly quiet, there's, like, absolutely no one there at all. Is there ever anyone there, sis?_

**yoneld's sister**: *tries and fails to do a British accent* Can't you see I'm drinking tea right now?

**yoneld**: *ROTFLs*

**yoneld's sister**: *also ROTFLs*

**yoneld**: *British accent* Why don't we have tea here every day?

**yoneld's sister**: *failed British accent* Yes, indeed we shall. *ROTFLs again*

**yoneld**: *also ROTFLs again*

**yoneld's sister**: Uh… maybe we should stop making each other ROTFL?

**yoneld**: I'm not making you ROTFL, we're both ROTFLing because you fail at doing a British accent!

**yoneld's sister**: I know, I know, and that's very funny, but we should stop it. Just threaten them and get it over with.

**yoneld**: *pouts* You're no fun.

**yoneld's sister**: *glances at the threat he's written* Wow, you really outdid yourself this time.

_**Review or your best friend will forcibly drag you to their favorite shop.**_


	6. The Journey (I Run Into A Wall)

_A/N: Having a laptop really is convenient. You can write everywhere and you don't have to worry about there being a computer. Isn't it great to have your computer everywhere?_

**yoneld's sister**: You tell me. I don't have a laptop. This is your laptop, remember?

**yoneld**: Yes, I remember. My memory is not _that_ bad, thank you very much.

**yoneld's sister**: Yeah, whatever. Just get on with it and let me read the previous chapter.

**yoneld**: But you helped me write it!

**yoneld's sister**: First of all, you writing and me watching you is not helping. That's you writing and me watching you.

**yoneld**: That's not true! You wrote the entire shopping part!

**yoneld's sister**: That's right, I did. We should do that more often.

**yoneld**: That's exactly what I'm planning on doing.

**yoneld's sister**: We shall see… anyways, just because I saw it being written/wrote parts of it doesn't mean I don't want to read the final product.

**yoneld**: Why would you want to do that? And no, that last view of Chapter 5 from France was not mine, why are you asking?

**yoneld's sister**: *knowing smile* Sure it wasn't.

**yoneld**: Shut up. And please put my laptop between us so we can both write.

**yoneld's sister**: *failed British accent* But can't you see I'm drinking tea right now?

**yoneld**: *British accent* Why, yes, I can. I'm drinking tea too.

**yoneld's other sister**: I can't finish my tea, I'm giving it to you. *tries to pour her tea into yoneld's cup and spills about 99.9999% of it*

**yoneld**: Sis, you're supposed to pour it into my cup, not spill it over my laptop!

_Once again, you get to hear from my sister. This is going to happen a lot, as we're co-writing._

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than my self-insert. Oh, and my sister owns Mary.

We spent the rest of the summer by each other's houses playing flying catch, talking about Hogwarts, and trying the spells and jinxes from my book and _The Standard Book of Spells_ out on each other. Every day, I fed Athena and gave her water, and then I let her fly outside and cleaned her cage meanwhile. The cage was open at night, because that was when owls liked to hunt.

Mary had her whole class over for her seventh birthday on 15 August. They played some party games (pass-the-parcel, musical chairs, you get the idea) and then when it was time for cake, Mary somehow turned the eight candles into eight sparks, which soared out of the open window and exploded into fireworks, which somehow looked like her. I couldn't stop laughing for five whole minutes after that. After all her friends left, I said to her, "Who knows? Maybe you're a witch!"

"I can see Diagon Alley," she reminded me. "You already knew I was a witch."

"Me too!" Taylor said. "But I don't want to be the mean witch. I want to be the good fairy!"

We all laughed. Taylor said such funny things sometimes.

"Stop laughing!" she said.

"We're not laughing at you, we're laughing because you're so cute!" my mum said.

On the morning of 1 September, I was woken up at seven o'clock – _again_ – by Mary.

"Why do you always have to do that?" I asked her as she turned the lights on and off.

"Because you'd never get out of bed otherwise," she said simply.

"How about this," I said, annoyed. "I'm not going to wake up until you stop it."

"But if I stop, you'll never get up!" she said. "Just get up and I'll stop!"

"Give me five minutes, okay?" I said.

"Okay," she said. "You'll miss the train. Not my problem."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "The train only leaves at eleven." I looked at my watch. "Now it's five past seven."

"Mrs. Granger's picking you up at a quarter past eight," she said.

"So? That's more than an hour from now!"

"But it takes you half an hour to get ready, you slow cow!" Mary said. "And you know Mum – she'd want to take pictures of you in your uniform."

"Have you seen my uniform?" I asked her. "How d'you expect me to walk around London in a black robe with a Hogwarts crest on it?"

"You'll take the robe off before we get out," she said. "Now get up!"

And she left.

I got up, put on my uniform (a white blazer, a black tie with the Hogwarts crest printed on the bottom, a dark grey V-neck, black trousers, and a black robe with a Hogwarts crest), took my wand and Athena's cage, lifted the trunk with my mind (come on, it was heavy!) and went downstairs.

My parents were already waiting for me with Mary, who as already in her school uniform (which was much more normal-looking than mine), and Taylor. They were all eating breakfast.

"Morning," I said, setting my trunk down and trying to figure out how to sit with the robe. "What's for breakfast?"

"You look weird in that robe," Mary said.

"Shut up or I'll jinx you," I told her, brandishing my wand.

"I'll just jinx you back," she said, unimpressed.

"What, with exploding candles?" I snickered and grabbed a pancake.

"Stop fighting," my mum said. "Eat quickly so I can take your picture."

I ate quickly. When I finished, my mum led me out to the front lawn, where she took my picture in my uniform, and then we went back inside.

"I can't believe you're leaving for three months. I'm really going to miss you," she said and hugged me.

"I know," I said. I really was going to miss my family, but I was coming back for Christmas.

"I'm going to miss you, too," my dad said and patted me on the back.

"I know, but it's only three months," I said. "They'll be over before you know it."

"I'm going to miss you, too," Mary said, hugging me.

"What will I do without you waking me up at Hogwarts?" I asked.

"I know!" Mary said. "Hermione can wake you up."

I smiled. Hermione was very punctual and wanted everyone else to be like her. "I don't think the dormitories will be mixed," I told Mary.

"She'll probably go into the boys' dormitories and wake you and Dean up," she said.

"I will miss you too," Taylor said.

"Who'll cheer me up when I'm upset?" I asked her.

"Like this?" She started pulling silly faces.

"Exactly," I said, laughing. The rest of the family laughed, too.

"You're funny," Mary said.

"No, I'm not," Taylor said angrily.

"Yes, you are," Mary said. The girls tended to get into those stupid arguments a lot.

"Stop fighting," I said.

"We're not fighting, we're arguing," Mary said.

"Same difference," I shrugged.

"No, it isn't," Mary said.

"Whatever," I said. If I started arguing with Mary, it'd never end.

The doorbell rang.

"You get it, Mary – I have to take off my robe," I said. "It's impossible to sit with that thing."

"You'll get used to it," she said. I went into the kitchen, where my trunk was, took off my robe, and stuffed it into the trunk. I heard Mary saying, "He's just taking his robe off, Mrs. Granger…"

I came back out to the hallway and wheeled my trunk. Mrs. Granger was there.

"Hello, Mrs. Granger," I said.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

My mum pulled me into a tight hug. "Be good and stay out of trouble," she said. "And take this for the way," she added, giving me a small shoulder bag.

"What's in that?" I asked her.

"Food, water, your train ticket, and some spare change in Galleons," she said.

"Thanks," I said, taking the bag and strapping it over my torso. "And don't worry - Hermione will make sure I stay out of trouble."

"Don't forget to write," she said.

"I'll write so much you'll get sick of Athena," I said.

We went out. The Grangers' car was parked outside our house. Hermione was sitting in the back. I pulled _The Muggle's Guide to the Wizarding World_ out of my trunk, put my trunk in the boot, got in the car, and sat to Hermione's left.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," she said. I could tell she was excited and nervous about starting Hogwarts.

Mrs. Granger drove us to Dean's house, got out of the car, and came back about a minute later with Dean. We both greeted him and he greeted us.

We spent the ride in silence; Hermione and I read and Dean looked out of the window. Two hours and many traffic jams later, we were unloading our trunks at King's Cross Railway Station.

At the station, we got three trolleys for our trunks and Athena and walked towards platforms nine and ten.

"We have to make sure nobody sees us," Dean said.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"I'll put it this way," I said. "What would you think if you saw five people with trunks and an owl running into a wall?"

"I see your point," Hermione said. "Well, it's not very crowded here."

"And it's only half past ten," I added, "so we've got plenty of time. The train leaves at eleven." I looked at the timetable. "Last train before eleven leaves at a quarter to eleven, and first train after eleven leaves at five past eleven, but by then we'd already be on the train. I say we go through at ten to eleven. That way there won't be too many people on the platforms, because one train will have just left and the next one will be coming in fifteen minutes."

"Well, I'm starving," Dean said.

"Now that you mention it," I told him, "so am I."

"Boys," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"We can have something small," Mrs. Granger said. "We only need to find a coffee shop."

"I have food," I said quickly, "so there's really no need –"

"That's okay," Mrs. Granger said. "You should save your food for the trip. Now, where is there a coffee shop?" She started looking around for one.

"I think there's one over there," I said, pointing to a sign that said _La Pizzeria Reale_. "Well, it probably serves pizza, and I bet it serves coffee, too." We went over to _La Pizzeria Reale_. Sure enough, one thing on the menu was "Royal Pizza" (you'd think they'd serve that, seeing as _Le Pizzeria Reale_ means "the royal pizzeria" in Italian). We sat down. Mr. and Mrs. Granger ordered cappuccinos and Hermione, Dean, and I shared a Royal Pizza, which was very good. We paid ten pounds for the pizza and coffee and left. It was already ten to eleven. We ran towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten and passed through it.

We were in an old-fashioned train station which looked like it had been built around the 19th century. The train looked 19th-century too, complete with steam locomotive.

"Wicked," Dean and I said at the same time.

"It was built in the 1850s," Hermione said. "People needed an inconspicuous way to get to Hogwarts, so they built the Hogwarts Express."

"Cool," I said. "And they didn't think of that before because…?"

"I don't know," Hermione said.

Dean and I both gasped comically.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione doesn't know something?" Dean asked.

"Must be a first," I added.

"Shut up, you two," she said and went over to her parents, who were looking around the platform.

"Let's find a seat," I said to Dean. "Hermione'll come."

We went off and found a seat pretty close to the entrance.

"I'll wait for her," Dean said. "You stay here and save our seats."

"Okay," I said and stayed there and saved our seats. A few minutes later, Dean came back with Hermione.

"How long is this ride going to last?" I asked Hermione when she sat down.

"According to _Hogwarts, a History_, it's around nine hours," she said.

"Well, I brought stuff for us to do," Dean said. "I have cards."

"Cards?" said a drawling voice.

We all looked towards the door. Standing there were three boys: one short and blond with grey eyes and a haughty expression, and two gorillas.

"Why would you want to play cards when you can play Exploding Snap?" the blond boy drawled.

"Exploding?" I said.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Hermione asked.

"Who cares?" I said. "It sounds very cool!"

"Mudbloods," he said disdainfully and left with his two gorillas.

"What's a Mudblood?" Hermione asked, confused.

Dean and I gasped again.

"Another thing Hermione doesn't know?" I said.

"Are you feeling okay?" Dean asked, pretending to be concerned.

"I don't know everything," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well," I said smugly, "I do know what a Mudblood is." I opened _The Muggle's Guide to the Wizarding World_ and read out a section entitled "Pureblood supremacy":

_**Pureblood supremacy**__ is the belief that pureblood wizards are the supreme type of wizard. Wizards' blood status is divided into three categories:_

_**Purebloods**__ are wizards of no Muggle descent. These wizards are considered the most superior type of wizard by pureblood supremacists._

_**Half-bloods**__ are wizards of mixed descent. These wizards are considered slightly inferior to purebloods by pureblood supremacists, especially if one of their parents is a Muggle or Muggle-born._

_**Muggle-borns**__ are wizards who were born to two Muggle parents. These wizards are considered the most inferior type of wizard ("Mudblood"), second only to Muggles, and thieves of magic by pureblood supremacists, despite recent theories suggesting that Muggle-borns are descended from Squibs – non-magical people born to two wizard parents._

_Purebloods and half-bloods that do not believe in pureblood supremacy are typically considered "blood traitors," second only to Muggle-borns in their inferiority in the eyes of pureblood supremacists. In recent times, pureblood supremacy is losing popularity among pureblood families and Muggle-borns have been treated as equal (at least by law) since 948, when then-Overlord of the Magical Community Richard Gryffindor, grandfather of Godric Gryffindor, passed a decree prohibiting any form of discrimination against Muggle-borns and half-bloods. Since then, Muggle-borns and half-bloods started gradually mixing into Wizarding society. In a 1500 wizard census, only three hundred families out of four thousand were completely pureblood. The latest census conducted in 1990 showed only one thousand wizards were completely pureblood out of one million wizards._

"So that blond boy is a pureblood supremacist?" Dean asked.

"It appears so," I said.

"But that's horribly racist!" Hermione said. "Isn't there something against racial slurs?"

"There are one thousand purebloods," I reminded her. "Out of them, I'd say maybe four or five hundred are supremacists. That's 0.05 percent of the population. That's really not something to worry about, and it's impossible to completely burn out racism. But enough of that! I say we play Spit."

We set out the cards for Spit. Three-player Spit was much more confusing than the regular two-player version, but we'd played the three-player version many times, so we all had practice. The game was won by me, followed closely by Hermione. I was very good at Spit, having had much practice with Mary and my mum, who were the best Spit players I knew.

We had a few more games before a woman pushing a trolley with many snacks. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked.

I looked over at the trolley. There wasn't anything I knew, but it stood to reason that wizards would have different sweets.

"We'll take the lot," I said.

"That'll be two galleons, dear," she said.

I rummaged in my bag and found two one-Galleon coins. I gave her the coins and she gave me a large box with many sweets inside. I took it and thanked her for it.

I had barely managed to sit down before a round-faced boy with dark brown hair came in.

"Have you seen a toad?" he asked breathlessly.

"No," I said. "Why?"

"I lost mine," the boy said. "His name's Trevor."

"Need help finding him?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it," he said.

"I suggest we split up," I said. "Dean, you go with – what's your name?"

"Neville," he said.

"I'm Jonathan," I said. "Dean, you go with Neville. I'll go with Hermione."

We exited our car and split up. Dean went with Neville to the left, and I went with Hermione to the right. We asked about Neville's toad in every compartment. We also passed the blond boy and his two gorillas.

"What do you Mudbloods want from me?" he drawled.

"No need to be racist," I said evenly. "We were just going to ask if you'd seen a toad. A boy named Neville's lost one."

"No," one of the gorillas – the shorter, wider one – grunted. "Now get out of 'ere and stop bothering Draco."

"Draco?" I stifled a laugh.

Draco shot an irritated at the gorilla. "The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Bond, James Bond," I snickered.

"What?" he asked.

"Muggle thing," I said. "You wouldn't understand."

"Mudblood," he said. "Anyways, that's Crabbe –" He gestured to the shorter, wider gorilla –"and Goyle." He gestured to the taller, thinner gorilla. "Now get out of here," he drawled. "Wouldn't want Mudbloods tainting my air.

"No need to be racist," I said and we left. We continued walking and asking people about Neville's toad, saving the other side for when we came back. We reached the last car, where there were two boys; one had black hair and wore glasses, and the other had red hair and was raising his wand over a fat grey rat.

"Excuse me," Hermione said. "But have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one."

"No," they said.

"Oh, were you doing magic?" she asked, noticing the redhead's raised wand. "Let's see, then."

"Hermione," I said, "I don't think we should –"

"No, it's fine," the redhead said. "Take a seat."

"Thanks," I said, sitting down next to the black-haired boy.

The redhead cleared his throat. "_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!_" he said. Nothing happened.

"Well," I coughed, "maybe with a bit of practice you could get it."

"But are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione asked. "It must not be very good, then, is it? I tried a few simple spells at home, and they all worked out perfectly."

"Hermione," I said uncomfortably, "don't rub it in."

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she said, ignoring me. "Who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," said the redhead.

"Harry Potter," said the black-haired boy.

"Harry Potter?" Hermione said incredulously. "I read about you in, like, a million books! You're in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and_ Notable Magical Names of Our Age_. It says there about how Lord Voldemort –"

"Don't say his name!" Ron Weasley said. "You can call him You-Know-Who or something like that, but not the V-word!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're afraid to say someone's name?"

"You don't understand," Ron said.

"I do, I read about this Voldemort bloke," I said. "But nobody in the Muggle world is afraid of saying Hitler's name!"

"Let's not get into it," Hermione said. "Anyways, the books say that You-Know-Who –" I rolled my eyes. "- tried to kill you as a baby and –"

"Calm down, Hermione!" I said. "He's sitting right here!"

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Sorry." And she left.

"Sorry about her," I said. "She gets a little overexcited. I'm Jonathan Alderton, by the way. It was nice meeting you two." I left and joined Hermione outside the door. We kept asking about Neville's toad until –

"Oi! Is this the toad you two were looking for?" asked a voice in a thick Irish accent. We turned around to see a sandy-haired boy we had asked earlier holding a toad.

"I think it was," Hermione said.

"Yeah, how many toads d'you think there are here?" I said. "Thanks!"

We went back to our car. Dean and Neville were already back there.

"We found it," I announced when I came in.

"Trevor!" Neville said, taking it from me. "Thanks a lot, you three!"

"No problem," I said.

"Thanks," he said again and left.

It was already around five. I was getting really hungry, so I ate my sandwich and we all shared the sweets. There were licorice wands, Drooble's best blowing gum, chocolate frogs (which leapt and had famous wizard or witch card in the package; Dean and I started collecting them), and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (they really were every flavor; I got spinach, chopped liver, mint, chocolate, coffee, dirt, blood, grass, pepper, and lemon). We played another game of spit, and then the conductor announced: "We will be arriving at Hogwarts in fifteen minutes. Leave their things on the train – they will be carried up to the school."

"Well, we better put on our robes," I said.

We put on our robes and a few minutes later, the train came to a complete stop. We got off the train and heard a voice calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

We turned and saw a veritable giant of a man holding an umbrella at the end of the platform. When everyone was off the train, the man called, "Firs' years, follow me!"

We followed him to a dock, where there were around ten boats.

"Everyone here?" the man said. "Everyone get inter a boat – no more'n four ter a boat!"

Dean, Hermione, and I went into a boat with the sandy-haired boy who had found Neville's toad earlier.

"Everyone here?" the man said again. "One – two – three – go!" He tapped his boat with his umbrella.

All the boats started moving. "Yeh'll see Hogwarts in a sec," the man said.

The boats turned a little to the right, and we saw a truly impressive sight. In front of us was a huge castle on top of a cliff. There were many towers, courtyards, and bridges.

"Mind yer heads!" the man said as we approached the cliff face. We all bent our heads forward and passed through a low curtain of ivy into a cave. At the end of the cave, there was another dock. The boats came to a stop and we climbed out.

"Everyone here?" the man said for the third time. "Follow me."

We followed him outside the dock. The boathouse seemed to have been built inside the cliff, because we exited the boathouse into a walkway, followed by some stairs. The stairs led to a large courtyard and bridge. We went across the courtyard to a pair of tall oak doors. The man knocked three times.

_A/N: So, I'm finally at Hogwarts. I'm actually seeing it in my mind's eye as I'm writing – the train ride, looking for Neville's toad, Ron's failed spell, Hagrid, the boats, and the courtyard. It's really cool. Also, 3,814 words. HOW DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN._

**yoneld's sister**: Because you're following the book chapters.

**yoneld**: I know, but I didn't think it would be that long.

**yoneld's sister**: To be honest, neither did I.

_**Review or you will be stuck in a cave full of POISON IVY! *evil laugh***_


	7. The Sorting Hat (A Hat Scans My Mind)

_A/N: yoneld and his sister are back with some more "Jonathan Alderton and the Sorcerer's Stone". This time, we're writing from Barcelona, Spain. It's pretty cool here. Also, NINETY-FOUR VIEWS._

**yoneld's sister**: Are you sure they weren't all yours?

**yoneld**: Look at the countries I got views from: the States, Denmark, Israel, Poland, France, Ireland, the UK, India, Australia, Spain, Indonesia, the Netherlands, Canada, and Portugal. I've never been in Denmark, Poland, Ireland, India, Australia, Indonesia, or Portugal, last time I was in the States was in August 2012, last time I was in the UK was June 2011 and that was for a connection flight, last time I was in the Netherlands was July 2004, and last time I was in Canada was August 2007. I started writing this thing in May, and the only countries I've been to since May are Israel, France, and Spain.

**yoneld's sister**: So maybe all the views you got from Israel, France, and Spain were yours.

**yoneld**: I got two views from France in May, and I was in Israel that entire month. And only three of the eleven views I got from France in July were visitors.

**yoneld's sister**: Can't people fake their locations?

**yoneld**: They can, but why would I do that?

**yoneld's sister**: …

**yoneld**: And why would I give myself 94 views?

**yoneld's sister**: …

**yoneld**: And no offense to my Indonesian readers, Indonesia is not one of the first countries I'd think of.

**yoneld's sister**: …

**yoneld**: And FFnet records every time my computer visits the site as a view, meaning that if I refreshed, I would get another view. If I really wanted to give myself so many views, I would've refreshed so many times I would've gotten at least two hundred views.

**yoneld's sister**: …

**yoneld**: And do stop talking in ellipses. It's kind of annoying.

**yoneld's sister**: …

**yoneld**: Seriously, it's annoying.

**yoneld's sister**: …

**yoneld**: I told you to stop!

**yoneld's sister**: …

**yoneld**: STOP IT!

**yoneld's sister**: *pouts* You're no fun.

**yoneld**: …

**yoneld's sister**: Don't you start talking in ellipses!

**yoneld**: …

**yoneld's sister**: I told you not to!

**yoneld**: …

**yoneld's sister**: STOP IT!

**yoneld**: One exclamation mark would do just fine, you know.

**yoneld's sister**: You're annoying, you know that?

**yoneld**: *smirks* Yep!

**yoneld's sister**: Whatever, just start writing.

**yoneld**: M'kay. *takes a pen*

**yoneld's sister**: I meant typing!

**yoneld**: Oh, fine.

_Disclaimer_: I… oh, fine, sis, _we_ do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, other than the self-insert. And most of this chapter is taken directly from the book.

The door swung open at once. Professor McGonagall stood there.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit our entire house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed us into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing rather closer together than we would usually have done.

"Why aren't we being led right in?" I whispered to Hermione.

"There are different Houses and they Sort us into them," Hermione said. "Professor McGonagall's probably going to explain."

And indeed she did. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes swept over us, lingering for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron Weasley's smudged nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

"How do they Sort us?" I asked Hermione.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, frustrated. "I might need some spells, though. Maybe the Knockback Jinx? Or Wingardium Leviosa, that could work too…"

"Well, I've got Wingardium Leviosa covered," I said. "I don't even need my wand for that one."

"Wait…" Dean said slowly. "Three things Hermione doesn't know?"

"In one day?" I said. "Well, if I wasn't sure magic existed before now, I have my confirmation. I mean, the only way Hermione could not know three things in one day is magic!"

"Shut it," Hermione said.

Dean and I laughed – a laugh that soon turned into a gasp as about twenty ghost streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at us. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed us.

None of us answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at us. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told us, "and follow me."

Trying to calm my nervousness, I got into line behind Ron, with Dean behind me, and we walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

It was a place I had only seen the likes of in some castles we had visited in one of our many trips. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led us up there, so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind us. The hundreds of faces staring at us looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. I looked around, wondering if this was where we were to eat all the time or just for feasts, and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Hermione whispered to me, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

"Looking at it, you'd think there was no ceiling," I whispered back and looked down as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of us. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Maybe we had to get a rabbit out of it. But then a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished it song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"It's probably full of lice," I whispered to Hermione, scratching my head. I'd never had lice except for a few passing ones in year four, but my sister's head had been teeming with them since she was three. I hoped I didn't get any from wearing that hat.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

I realized with a shock that she was calling names by alphabetical order, which meant I would probably be next.

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. The ghost of the Fat Friar waved merrily at her.

"Alderton, Jonathan!"

I stumbled out of the line (not nearly due to my clumsiness as to my nervousness), sat on the stool, and put on the hat.

_Hmm…_ the Hat spoke in my mind. _Let's see… plenty of intelligence, oh yes… willingness to help others and loyalty, definitely… quite some courage, too… even a small thirst to prove yourself… but where shall I put you?_

_You tell me,_ I said. I was normally polite with strangers, but not when said strangers had just scanned my mind. _You're the Thinking Cap._

_I daresay your cheek brings you closer to Gryffindor,_ said the Hat.

_Is that so?_ I asked.

_Indeed,_ it said. _I'm sensing more and more Gryffindor as we go_.

_Well, can you please make your decision today, preferably before midnight?_ I asked.

_Impatience… well, that settles it_. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the far left exploded with cheers. I smiled in relief and walked over to it. A pair of redheaded identical twins who could only be Ron's older brothers was cat-calling. A number of people shook my hands. After everyone was done, I sat down next to a redheaded boy wearing horn-rimmed glasses.

"Welcome to Gryffindor, Jonathan," he said pompously. "I am Percy Weasley."

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Are you Ron's brother?"

"Yes," he said. "I understand that you met him?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the far right cheered. There seemed to be many people of Crabbe's and Goyle's build there.

"Corner, Michael!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Crabbe, Vincent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Davis, Tracey!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Dunbar, Fay!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

The sandy-haired Irish boy who had found Neville's toad went up to the stool and put on the hat. It took the hat almost a whole minute to declare him a Gryffindor. He sat across the table from me.

"Goldstein, Anthony!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Goyle, Gregory!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione all but ran to the to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. I crossed my fingers under the table for her. The hat took a few minutes to decide and, just when I was sure it was about to put her in Ravenclaw, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

I stood up, grinning from ear to ear. Hermione ran to the Gryffindor table and all but tackled me. When she was done squeezing the living daylights out of me, she sat down.

"Next time we're Sorted into the same House, try to leave me some air," I told her, massaging my ribs.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Hopkins, Wayne!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Jones, Megan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville stumbled onto the stool and put on the hat, which took forever to decide to put him in Gryffindor. He stumbled off, nearly forgetting to hand it to Ernie Macmillan, who was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Draco Malfoy walked haughtily to the stool and put on the hat, which had barely touched him before putting him in Slytherin.

"McDougal, Morag!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Moon, Lily!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Nott, Theodore!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Patil, Padma!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Patil, Parvati!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Perks, Sally-Anne!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Potter, Harry!"

The entire hall started whispering to each other. Professor McGonagall shushed them.

Harry sat there for about six minutes before the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry got the loudest cheer yet – louder than what Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, Millicent Bulstrode, and I had gotten for being the first in our Houses. Percy Weasley got up and shook Harry's hand vigorously, while the redheaded twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite Hermione and next to Seamus.

"Thomas, Dean!"

Dean went up to the stool, looking very nervous. Hermione and I looked at each other anxiously. And then –

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Dean came down to the Gryffindor table. Hermione got up and hugged him while I clapped him on the back. He sat on Hermione's other side.

"Turpin, Lisa!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Ron Weasley went up to the stool, looking pale green.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron went to the Gryffindor table and collapsed into the chair next to Harry. The redheaded twins, Percy, and Harry cheered the loudest.

"Zabini, Blaise!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

I looked down at my empty gold plate, realizing that I was starving.

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at us, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see us all here.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Dean and I laughed. Even Hermione let out a little chuckle.

Food suddenly appeared on the dishes. There were so many things on the table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

I piled my plate with many things, especially sausages and potatoes and began to eat. The food was exquisitely delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you –" Harry asked.

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it."

"I can't imagine not eating," I said, shuddering. "Who are you, by the way?"

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service," said the ghost. "Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy –" the ghost began stiffly, but Seamus interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone must have attempted to behead him, but had not done it properly. Feeling repulsed, I said, "Uh… do we really need to be seeing this while we're eating?"

"Sorry," he said, flipping his head back onto his neck. He coughed and said, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."

I looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy, who did not look pleased at all. I was pleased to see that. I wasn't normally vindictive, but I did not approve of racism.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus, looking very interested.

"Do we really need to be talking about this?" I asked. "We're eating!"

When we had all eaten as much as we could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later, the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding –

I helped myself to everything, and the talk turned to our families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

We laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great-Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Great-Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great-Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy."

_Not nearly because you were magic as because you were alive_, I thought, frowning at how casually Neville was talking about this.

"And you should have seen their faces when I got in here – they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see."

"How can you not be magic enough?" I frowned. "Either you're magic or you're not."

"I don't know," he admitted. "But my wand is long enough. They say wand length hints at magical power. Anyway, what about you, Jonathan?"

"My parents are Muggles," I said. "It was a right shock getting that letter. Hermione, Dean, and I were cleaning up after my birthday party, and suddenly we were hit in the back of the head by owls! And then Professor McGonagall came and explained everything. I thought I was dreaming."

Everyone laughed.

"I have two sisters," I said, "and I think they might be witches. They could both see the Leaky Cauldron from the outside, and my sister Mary – she's seven – turned her birthday candles into fireworks."

Everyone laughed again.

"Did you have anything happen to you?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," I said. "Watch."

I lifted another piece of apple pie from the serving plate to my own plate with my mind.

"Wicked," said Ron.

"What about you, Ron?" I asked.

"We're all wizards," he said. "I think my mum might have a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First of all, I would like to introduce the newest member of our staff, Professor Burbage, who will be teaching Muggle Studies. Meanwhile, Professor Quirrell will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Everyone cheered politely for Professors Burbage and Quirrell.

"Now!" Dumbledore said when the applause had died down. "First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but I was shocked. What is something that could cause a very painful death doing in a school? Or maybe they were renovating?

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. I noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And we all bellowed (I invented my own melody – I was very talented in music):

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the redheaded twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

We followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. The people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as we passed (one of them seemed to fancy Seamus). Twice Percy led us through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries (they should really make a map of this place). We climbed more staircases. Everyone seemed to be tired, but I wasn't sleepy at all, even though it was nearly midnight. I was an evening/night person – I seemed to be the most awake in evening hours. After climbing about four floors, we came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to us. "A poltergeist." At that point, I thought nothing could surprise me anymore. Percy raised his voice and said, "Peeves – show youself!"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at us. We all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this. I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head, some of them hitting me. We heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as we set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. We all scrambled through it – I gave Neville a leg up – and found ourselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and us boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase – we were obviously in one of the towers – we found our beds at last: six four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Our trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much (except me, I was wide awake), we pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. I fell asleep very soon. That was something I had always found strange. I could be wide awake one moment, but as soon as I'm in bed, I could fall asleep in minutes.

_A/N: This chapter was very easy to write – I pretty much copied the chapter from the book and adapted it slightly to suit Jonathan's point of view and put him inside the story. But other than that, it was very easy. And I added Fay Dunbar (who does not appear in the book but does in the movie) to keep the number of Gryffindors in Harry's year even._

_**Review or your head will be infested with lice.**_


	8. The Potions Master (We Befriend A Giant)

_A/N: We have concluded our France/Spain trip and have returned to Israel. I really don't get is why there are plugs in a one-hour train ride from Haifa to Tel Aviv and a half-hour train ride from Tel Aviv to Modi'in, but not in a four-hour flight from Barcelona to Tel Aviv. It's ridiculous._

**yoneld's sister**: What I really don't get is why there's no free Wi-Fi at the airport.

**yoneld**: They need money here in Spain, so they take it for everything.

**yoneld's sister**: But that'll just help the people who run the Wi-Fi server!

**yoneld**: Yes, they get the money, but more money means higher tax, and higher tax means more money for the government, and more money for the government means more funding of companies, and more funding of companies means more jobs, and more jobs means everyone has more money, and more money means higher tax, and…

**yoneld's sister**: OKAY I GET IT. Just do the disclaimer.

**yoneld**: Fine.

_Disclaimer_: We do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than the self-insert.

I had barely fallen asleep before Dean yanked the curtains open and yelled at me to wake up.

"Bloody hell!" I said. "What time is it?"

"8:05, and if you want to get to breakfast before the food is all gone, you'd better wake up now," he said.

"All right, all right, I'm coming," I said and sat up in my bed.

"Hermione's waiting in the common room," he said and left.

Harry, Seamus, and Ron were still sleeping, and Neville was just beginning to wake up. I wasn't sure exactly how Dean had woken up, but I hoped for him that it wasn't Hermione. I had only been woken up by Hermione once in my life – when I had fallen asleep in a bus ride to Glasgow (school trip) – and, well, she was worse than Mary in that department.

I put on my Hogwarts uniform (the velvety inside of my robe had turned red, the Hogwarts crest had been replaced with a Gryffindor crest, my jumper had gotten red and gold stripes around the edges of the sleeves and the waist, and my tie had become red and gold and lost the Hogwarts crest at the bottom) and exited the dormitory. While passing Dean's bed, I noticed that he had an alarm clock. That must have woken him up. I joined Hermione and Dean by the staircase.

"There you are," she said. "What took you so long?"

"Not everyone can be morning persons like you and Dean," I told her as we started walking towards the exit. "And I wasn't the last to wake up – Harry, Ron, and Seamus are still sleeping."

"So are Parvati, Fay, and Lavender," Hermione said.

"How are they?" I asked her, opening the door.

"I didn't really get a chance to talk to them," she said, going through. "We were all too tired."

"Hey!"

We looked around and saw Neville running towards us.

"Hi, Neville," I said.

"Can I come with you to breakfast?" he asked. "I don't remember the way."

"Neither do I," Dean admitted.

"Neither do I," said Hermione.

Dean and I gasped again.

"Stop it!" she said, annoyed. "This is getting really old."

"Oh, fine," I said. "Well, it so happens that I do remember the way." That was thanks to a photographic memory and a great sense of direction. "Follow me," I said.

I looked around the hallway. I remembered that the portrait had been on our left, so that meant we'd have to take a right. We took a right and walked until a door at the end of the hallway. We went through the door and found ourselves in a huge hall full of moving staircases.

"Careful not to fall off," Hermione said, worried.

"Relax," I rolled my eyes. "They wouldn't have the staircases here if they weren't safe."

We went down several floors before I felt something grabbing my nose and heard someone screeching, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

"Cut it out, Peeves," I said.

"Not unless you say please," he said evilly, fading into view.

"Do you want me to call the Bloody Baron?" I asked. "Because I know a few Slytherins, I could easily ask them –"

Peeves blew me a raspberry and left.

"And that is how you get rid of an annoying poltergeist," I said smugly.

"But the Slytherins wouldn't help you," Hermione said.

"Ah, but Peeves doesn't need to know that, does he?" I said.

"Ah, someone with a right mind!" a voice behind me said. The redheaded twins were walking besides us.

"We don't believe we've introduced ourselves. I'm Fred Weasley," said one of them.

"And I'm George," the other said.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "I'm Jonathan Alderton, and these are Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom."

"Well," said Fred, "I see you already found the Grand Staircase."

"Yeah, I might have missed a turn in the hallway," I said.

"You came up through a secret passage," George explained.

"It's not very noticeable," Fred said.

"The Grand Staircase is the main staircase," George said.

"If we keep going down –"

"– we'll get to the Entrance Hall."

"Where's breakfast?" I asked.

"In the Great Hall, of course," George said. "Why?"

"There are places with both a banquet hall and a regular dining room," I said. "Just had to clear that up."

We kept going down, eventually reaching a large entrance to a hallway, which led to the marble staircase and into the Entrance Hall. I remembered the Great Hall was on the left from the marble staircase. We went into the Great Hall, which wasn't nearly as full as last night, and sat at the Gryffindor table. I helped myself to a baguette with butter and some French toast. I had already finished my baguette and was working my way through my second piece of French toast when Harry and Ron burst into the hall, looking breathless.

"What happened to you?" I asked as they sat down.

"Took us forever to find the place," Ron said, piling pieces of toast on his plate.

"There are one hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts, a portrait told me," Harry said, helping himself to some porridge.

I finished my French toast and took some porridge, too. It was quite good. "You had to go through all one hundred and forty-two?" I asked.

"No," said Ron, "but we did run into Filch."

"Who's Filch?" asked Hermione.

"The caretaker," said Fred. "You don't want to get on the wrong side of him."

"Says you," Ron said with his mouth full.

"We ran into him near the third-floor corridor," said Harry. "He thought we were trying to open the door."

"And were you?" I asked.

"Yes, but only because we thought it lead somewhere!" he said. "We didn't even know we were on the third floor!"

"How'd you get out?" asked Dean.

"Quirrell passed by and saved us," said Ron.

"Saved you from what?" Seamus said as he joined us.

Harry and Ron told him what happened. Seamus was laughing his head off when they finished.

"That takes talent," he said.

"Yeah, they even broke our records," said George.

Professor McGonagall came down to the Gryffindor table and handed out timetables. I looked at mine and saw our first lesson was double Potions with the Slytherins, taught by Professor S. Snape in the dungeons.

"It's Potions first," I said.

When we finished eating, we went to the Grand Staircase and went as far down as possible. We entered a door at the bottom and found ourselves in a hallway that looked as though nobody had passed through it in centuries. We walked for a while and found that it was a dead end.

"Oh, great," Ron groaned. "Now we'll get in trouble with that Snape person, too."

"Not so fast," I said. "Let me try something."

I put my hand on the wall and pushed. The wall yielded and slid sideways.

"There we go," I said. We entered the damp passage, which led us to a narrow hallway. At the end on our left, there was a door. I pushed it and we found ourselves in the Potions classroom. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were already there. I took a seat and Dean sat next to me. A few minutes later, Professor Snape, a man with long, greasy black hair and sallow skin walked in and up to the front of the classroom. He looked around at the classroom, and I got the impression that he was not someone to be trifled with.

"Sit," he said quietly. Everyone sat. He took the roll call and paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."

I heard Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggering behind me. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but I caught every word – or maybe that was just my excellent hearing. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

I raised my eyebrows at Dean, who shrugged.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. I searched my memory; I knew I had come across it in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ –

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lip curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand. I remembered that what Snape was talking about was the Draught of Living Death.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, and I smiled. I knew this one. Bezoars existed in the Muggle world, too.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape said maliciously, still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

They were the same thing, I recalled, but said nothing. Hermione, however, stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

I laughed; I saw Harry turning around, smiling. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plan, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

I took out a quill and some parchment and quickly wrote down, _asphodel+wormwood=Draught of Living Death (zzz…), bezoar comes from goat stomachs, saves from poisons, monkshood=wolfsbane=aconite_.

Over the noise of everyone writing, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Snape put us all into pairs – I was paired with Neville – and set us to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. The instructions appeared on the board. Neville and I carefully followed them. Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching us weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

Neville reached for the porcupine quills and was about to drop them into potion before I realized his mistake and said quickly, "Don't put them in! Take it off the fire first."

Neville took the cauldron off the fire.

"Let it cool a few seconds…" I said. "Okay, now you can put them in."

The rest of the lesson went okay. When the time was up, Snape went by and looked at our potions. When he stopped by Neville's and my potion, he paused for a moment, looking at the potion, which was red, and finally said, "I suppose this is adequate." I could tell that coming from him that was a big compliment.

Our next class was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, taught by Professor P. Sprout in the greenhouses, which were behind the classroom. Professor Sprout was a dumpy little witch who taught us how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and what they were used for. Hermione, Dean, and I got lost on the way back, reaching thick woods. "Maybe we can cut through to the castle," I said.

"Hey!" shouted the giant man who had led us through the boats. "Don' go in there! Tha's the Forbidden Forest!"

"Sorry," I said. "We just got lost."

"No problem," he said. "I'll show yeh lot the way back up. I'm Hagrid, by the way. Keeper o' the grounds and keys."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said.

Hagrid led us back up to the castle.

"Thanks," I said to him as we went in.

"Ah, no problem," he said. "An' feel free ter come by fer a visit any time!"

We went into the Great Hall, had lunch, and went up to the common room, where Fred and George sat playing chess.

"Hi, you lot," said Fred. "Knight to E-4."

"Hi," I said, watching Fred's knight skip to E-4. "Is that chess?"

"Wizard chess," said George. "Queen to E-4."

"Looks brutal," I observed as George's queen strode over to E-4 and knocked Fred's knight off the board.

"We'll let you try when we're done," said Fred. "Rook to E-4."

Fred's rook knocked George's queen out of E-4 and grunted, "Check."

Fred and George kept playing until finally, Fred's knight checkmated George. I played a game against Fred, who won.

"Hey, you're not half bad for a beginner," he said.

Fred, George, Dean, and I rotated between two tables which had boards on them, with the winners playing each other and the losers playing each other until 2:00, when it was time for us to go to Charms. Professor F. Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of our first class he took the roll call, like Snape, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. She gave us a talking-to the moment we sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. I was very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized we weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals anytime soon. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and I had made any difference to our matchers; Professor McGonagall showed the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gave us a rare smile.

The class we had all really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which he said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days when I asked him. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but I wasn't sure I believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, we had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. They had told me that at lunch on Tuesday.

I was sorely disappointed to find out the most boring class was easily History of Magic (History was one of my favorite classes), which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor C. Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire (at least that was what Percy Weasley had told me at dinner later) and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. His students must have had a right shock when he entered the classroom as a ghost. Binns droned on and on while we scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

We had to study the night skies through our telescopes every Wednesday at midnight (I had decided I'd just go to sleep after Astronomy on Wednesdays) and learn the names of different stars and the movement of the planets.

Around five on Friday afternoon, Hermione, Dean, and I took up on Hagrid's offer and came down for a visit. He lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

I knocked and Hagrid opened the door. "Come in," he said.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it and a huge boarhound sleeping on it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes on a plate.

"This is Fang," he said, gesturing to the dog. "Help yerselves."

I tasted a bit of the rock cake, which, once I got over the fact that the only reason my teeth weren't broken was because I had very strong teeth, were very good. I took a sip of tea, which was also very good.

We told Hagrid all about our first-year classes. While Dean was giving a particularly funny description of how Seamus had messed up their potion, I looked at a newspaper clipping from a paper named _The Daily Prophet_:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

"_But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon_.

When I finished reading the article, I rejoined the conversation.

We walked back to the castle for dinner. I had taken some rock cakes (my teeth had stopped protesting) for later.

_A/N: Again, I C&P'd a lot from the book here. That's because Jonathan isn't really affecting the story at this point._

_**Review or Fred's queen will knock you silly.**_


	9. The Midnight Duel (Malfoy Is A Git)

_A/N: Wow, this is the first time I was really motivated to update since my HP parody, and… actually, the only reason I had that many positive reviews by this point in my HP parody was because the same person reviewed every chapter, and I had about as many favorites/follows/views to that fic as I have for this fic, and let's not forget that I have follows as an author, so… yeah. I'd say this story is doing pretty well. And thanks for bombarding me with views yesterday! I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate it. Oh, and congratulations to all my Antiguan, Australian, Bahamian, Barbadian, Belizean, Canadian, Grenadian, Jamaican, New Zealand, Papua New Guinean, Kittitian, St. Lucian, St. Vincentian, Solomon Island, Tuvaluan, and British readers on the birth of your future king! I saw a picture of him and he looks adorable, and I can see what William meant about him having a good pair of lungs._

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than the self insert.

I slept in on Saturday and woke up at 10:00. Luckily, there was still breakfast (it was served until eleven on weekends, according to the Weasley twins), after which I went back up to the common room, took a quill, ink, and parchment from a tray in the corner, and wrote a letter to my family:

_Dear all,_

_Hogwarts is great. Lessons are pretty interesting (other than History of Magic – the teacher's a ghost). Made a new friend named Neville. There are different houses here at Hogwarts: Gryffindor for the brave ones, Hufflepuff for the loyal and hard-working ones, Ravenclaw for the smart ones, and Slytherin for the ambitious ones. I'm in Gryffindor. My classmates in Gryffindor are all pretty nice._

_Love,_

_Jonathan_

_P.S. I'll see if I can get Taylor something cool for her birthday, but don't tell her that. I don't want her to be disappointed if I can't._

I finished writing the letter, put the ink and the quill back, and exited the common room towards the Grand Staircase. I had no idea where the Owlery was, but as far as I knew, Fred and George were still in the Great Hall. I could ask them. I was on the fourth-floor landing when Nearly Headless Nick burst out of the wall, scaring the living daylights out of me.

"Sorry if I startled you, Mr. Alderton," he said.

"It's fine, Sir Nicholas," I said.

"Need help getting anywhere?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm looking for the Owlery," I said.

"Then follow me," he said, vanishing through the door. I went through it. He led me through a clock tower down to a courtyard and out to a covered bridge, which led out to a long, uphill path which went straight to the Owlery.

"Thanks," I said.

"Always glad to help lost Gryffindors," he said. "If you're ever stuck somewhere at Hogwarts, just give me a shout."

"I will," I said. "Thanks, Sir Nicholas."

"Don't mention it," he said and vanished through the wall.

I looked around. The Owlery was a round tower with the walls lined with square capsules for the owls. It reminded me of pictures I'd seen of capsule hotels in Japan. I looked around the Owlery and found Athena in a capsule on one of the upper landings.

"They treating you well?" I asked her.

She hooted, looking content.

"I've got something for you," I said. She stretched out her leg. I tied the letter to it with a piece of string on the side. I gave her some owl treats and let her drink before she climbed on my shoulder. I walked her over to the window, where she lifted herself off my shoulder, nibbled my ear, and flew off. I watched her until she disappeared from sight and returned to the common room. I spent the rest of the day playing wizard chess with Dean and Hermione and playing flying catch with a crumpled-up piece of parchment in the courtyard. On Sunday, Athena brought me a reply from my family in an envelope. There were three letters inside:

_Dear Jonathan,_

_I'm happy to hear you like Hogwarts! Athena nearly gave me a heart attack when she burst into the living room at dinner last night._

_Steve came in yesterday and gave us a letter for you, Dean, and Hermione. That was really nice of him._

_Why is this letter written on parchment?_

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad_

_Deer Jonathan,_

_Hogwarts soundz relly cool! I hope I'll go thair when I'm older. Who's Neville? And why is the paper so weerd?_

_Love,_

_Mary and Taylor_

_Jonathan, Dean, and Hermione,_

_Most of us study at Chesterton Community College now. Are you three coming back for Christmas? Because if you are, please come for a visit._

_Year Seven_

_Chesterton Community College_

_P.S. Happy birthday to Hermione._

I smiled. I showed the letter from our class to Dean and Hermione. When we returned to the common room, we wrote letters to everyone (Dean and Hermione wrote to their families), and spent the rest of the day much like Saturday.

The rest of the week went much like last week, with me preventing Neville from blowing the entire Potions classroom up several times and Hermione and I trying to outdo each other in Transfiguration. On Wednesday, a notice went up in the Gryffindor common room that made us all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday – but that wasn't what made us groan per se; Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Quidditch was the Wizarding equivalent of football, as I had seen in _The Muggle's Guide to the Wizarding World_, and Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the House Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

"Just how many times did you fly, Malfoy?" I asked him once as we were going up to the Great Hall from a Potions lesson. "I mean, I live in a big city and I didn't see that many helicopters."

"Shut up, you filthy Mudblood," he sneered.

There was an instant uproar at his words. Crabbe and Goyle jumped in front of Malfoy to protect him from Ron's attempts to wring his neck, Seamus was calling Malfoy several ugly names, Parvati and Lavender shrieked, "_How dare you_!", Fay Dunbar was looking appalled, Dean was shaking his fist at Malfoy, and Hermione had taken out her wand and pointed it at Malfoy. I quickly stepped between Ron and Malfoy before anything could happen and shouted, "Everyone calm down right now!"

"But…" Seamus said, appalled.

"Do you even know what the M-word means?" Ron asked, seething.

"Yes," I said calmly, "I know what it means and I know he's not worth it."

"Er…" Harry said, "What _does_ the M-word mean?"

"It's a racial slur for Muggle-borns, or people with non-magical parents," I said coolly. "Malfoy here clearly thinks he's better than me just because he's got two wizard parents."

"That's because I am!" he said.

"Shut up," I said coldly.

Malfoy wasn't the only one who talked about flying; the way Seamus told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on a broomstick. Ron also told anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on his brother Charlie's old broom. Everyone from Wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. On Wednesday evening, I found Ron and Dean arguing about football when I walked into the dormitory. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. The next morning, I saw Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham football team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, I agreed with her. Neville was even clumsier than me, and I couldn't go ten feet without finding something to trip on.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book – not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she rambled on and on about flying tips she'd gotten out of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but I interrupted her when Ron had fallen asleep.

"Hermione, we get it," I said. "That's what the teacher is for."

She looked like she was about to retort, but the mail arrived right then. I got more letters. A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a particularly large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something…"

"Does it tell you what you forgot?" I asked.

"No," he said, trying to remember what he'd forgotten.

"Then it makes it kind of pointless, doesn't it?" I asked.

"Exactly, Alderton," Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, drawled. He then snatched the Remembrall out of Neville's hand.

Harry, Ron, and I jumped to our feet, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," said Neville.

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, we hurried down to the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns to a smooth, flat lawn opposite to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Fred and George Weasley often complained about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

The teacher, Madam R. Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I glanced down at my broom. It was old but seemingly well-kept.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" we all shouted.

My broom jumped into my hand almost immediately, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over to the ground, Neville's hadn't moved at all, and Ron's had thwacked him in the face. Dean's broom, however, had had the funniest reaction yet: when Dean had shouted up, the broomstick had righted itself, started sweeping the grass around him and suddenly hit him in the back of the neck.

Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting our grips.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three –two –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. I saw his scared white face look sown at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –

I locked my eyes upon him and concentrated on making him float. I'd never tried using my ability on living things, but if I had managed to move a plane over three hundred miles then surely I could keep a small boy floating for a few minutes or at least slow down his fall. However, a sudden wind blew and he was thrown out of my grasp –

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of us.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," I snapped.

"Aw, look… he's sticking up to his little friend!" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry and I said together quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it here!" I yelled. Harry took out his wand, but Malfoy had leaped onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, then!"

Harry and I grabbed our brooms.

"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you two will get us all into trouble."

We ignored her. I was seething at Malfoy. I was normally calm and collected, but not when someone was hurting my friends. I mounted my broom and kicked hard against the ground and soared up; air rushed through my already messy hair, making it even messier, and my robes whipped out behind me – and I suddenly had a rush of fierce joy. It felt great, being up here in the air and flying. It was like the rush I got out of a rollercoaster, but much stronger. I pulled my broomstick up a little to take it higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and a cheer from Dean.

Harry turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair, and I, understanding what he was about to do, flew behind Malfoy so as to block him.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, clearly trying to sound brave but failing miserably.

Harry shot on his broom towards Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just in time; I kept flying behind him, keeping him within a certain range from Harry, who made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry leaned forward, pointing his broom handle down – the next second he was gathering around in a steep dive, racing the ball. I circled under him, preparing to catch him if he fell. I heard several people scream. Harry stretched out his hand and a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

I leaned forward and landed. Professor McGonagall was running toward us. Harry got to his feet.

"Never – in all my time at Hogwarts –"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you – might have broken your neck –"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor –"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil –"

"But Malfoy –"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now. Alderton, you better come too."

I caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as we left. Professor McGonagall strode toward the castle, and I wondered what was going to happen. I hope we weren't going to be expelled, especially since people always seemed to be able to get away with much worse than that, but Harry seemed to have abandoned all hope.

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to us. We went one floor up the Grand Staircase and on the stone bridge. Maybe she was taking us to Dumbledore?

Professor McGonagall came to a stop outside the Charms classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

"Wood?" Harry whispered to me. "Is she going to cane us?"

"Why would she do that?" I asked, confused.

"I get beaten at home for doing less," he said casually.

I looked at him, shocked at the matter-of-factness with which he said that. We were going to have a talk when we got back to the common room.

Wood was a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you three," said Professor McGonagall, and we marched down up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed us into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face us.

"Potter, Alderton, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "These boys are naturals. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"And yours, Alderton?"

"Of course," I said.

"Potter caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive, and Alderton blocked the person who threw it and covered Potter below," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Potter didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, you two?" he asked excitedly.

"We both grew up with Muggles," I said.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. He then turned to me. "He looks like a Seeker too, but from what you said he could also be a Chaser or a Keeper. We can take him as a reserve. And Potter would have to get a decent broom, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…"

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at us.

"I want to hear you two are training hard, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled at Harry.

"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

"So what's this about you getting beat up at home?" I asked Harry once we had gotten out of Professor McGonagall's office.

"It's nothing," he said quickly.

"No, it bloody well isn't," I said angrily. "They're bloody abusing you."

"It's nothing," he repeated.

"Stop saying it's bloody nothing!" I snapped. "We are going to tell Dumbledore about this!"

"Please don't," he said, terrified.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because it's really not all that much to be worried about," he said. "Sometimes, when I did something really bad like cheeking my uncle, he would hit me, and my cousin hits me all the time, but it's really nothing."

"NOTHING?" I yelled. "HOW THE BLOODY HELL CAN YOU SAY IT'S NOTHING? THEY'RE BLOODY ABUSING YOU, THAT'S WHAT THEY'RE BLOODY DOING! SOON YOU'LL TELL ME THEY LOCKED YOU IN A BLOODY CUPBOARD!"

"Er…" Harry said uncomfortably.

"They locked you in a cupboard?" I asked dangerously.

"That was my bedroom," he whispered, looking terrified.

"_THOSE BLOODY…" _It took me a long time and many repetitions of the word "bloody" to calm down.

"You done?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I said.

"I think you might have broken the world record for so many bloodies in one sentence," he said, slightly amused. "Not even Ron says that much bloody."

"Yeah, well, guess what?" I said. "I don't give a damn!"

I told Dean and Hermione what had happened after we'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall, leaving out the parts about Harry being beaten up. That was his business. If I was going to tell anyone, it would be either Dumbledore or the police.

The Weasley twins, who had been talking to Harry, came over to me.

"Well done," said George. "Wood told us. We're Beaters on the team."

"Our job is to make sure the other players don't get bloodied up too badly," said Fred.

"And whose job is it to make sure _you_ don't get bloodied up too badly?" I asked.

"Fred," said George at the same time as Fred said, "George."

"And if you can't play, I step in, right?" I said.

"Exactly," said George. "You even get our brooms."

"Glad we got that covered," I said. "Looks I have a lot to learn if I'm filling in for everyone. Why do you have only one reserve anyway?"

"Guess we never needed them," said Fred.

"Well, we're off, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway to Hogsmeade."

"Bet it's the one we found in our first year. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having your last meal? When are you two getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly.

"I'd take you two on anytime on my own – you can be Potter's second, Alderton," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm coming to referee. Who's your second?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron, Harry, and I looked at each other. "What's a wizard's duel?" asked Harry.

"And what did Malfoy mean, I'm his second?" I asked.

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at on pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage."

"That's what _you_ think," I said. "Who'd you think stopped Neville in midair today?"

"But you're the second," he reminded me. "I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?" Harry asked

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me," Hermione, who was sitting next to me, said.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry and me.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying –"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"Actually, she couldn't," I said. "She's sitting right next to me."

"-and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"As if you wouldn't do the same thing," I said to her.

"Oh, right," she said sheepishly.

Harry, Ron, and I lay awake many hours after Dean and Seamus had fallen asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving Harry advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them."

There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and I thought we might be pushing our luck, breaking another school rule today. I pushed that thought away. This was our big chance to show Malfoy. I couldn't miss it.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."

We pulled on our bathrobes, picked up our wands, and crept across the dormitory, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. We had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you two are going to do this."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"Don't talk to her like that," I said. "She'll go if she wants to."

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy - he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

"Hermione," I said gently, "this isn't really your business."

"Come on," Harry said to us. I pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole. Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at us like an angry goose. "Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away," said Ron.

"I thought you knew better than that, Jonathan!" she said.

"And I told you at dinner that you'd do the same thing," I replied.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -"

But what we were, we didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

"She'll come with us," I said.

"No, she won't," Ron snapped.

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve -" said Ron loudly.

"Don't talk to her like that!" I said angrily. Hermione may be interfering, but she was still my best friend.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as we crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere," I said.

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Isn't magic great?" I said.

"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -" Ron said.

"We can't leave him out here!" I said.

Neville scrambled to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone," he said. "The Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

"Actually, you wouldn't be alive to that," I said dryly. "Filch doesn't look like the forgiving type."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned us all forward.

We flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn I expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but we were lucky. We sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. We edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry and I took out our wands in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them us. Harry had only just raised his wand when we heard someone speak - and it wasn't Malfoy. "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Harry waved madly at the rest of us to follow him as quickly as possible; we scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when I heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," I heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to us and, petrified, we began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. I could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and they both toppled right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle. They were certainly enough to give me a headache, and I didn't normally have headaches.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five of us sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – we swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where we were or where we were going - we ripped through a tapestry and found ourselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which I knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering. I was a bit better, being only a little out of breath. I may not really be in shape when it came to weightlifting and bench-pressing, but I was definitely in shape when it came to walking and running.

"I - told - you," Hermione, who wasn't as much in shape as me, gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I - told - you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry.

"You think?" I said sarcastically.

"He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off," she continued, ignoring me.

"That's great," said Harry. "Now let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. We hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of us. It was Peeves. He caught sight of us and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out," said Ron

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please," I said.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves - a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, we ran for our lives, right to the end of the corridor where we slammed into a door - and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as we pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

I could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"No, it isn't," I said, taking out my wand and pointing it at the door. "_Alohomora!_"

The lock clicked and the door swung open - we piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed our ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please."'

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And I heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay."

"Er… Harry?" I said, noticing the giant dog. "I really don't think so." I pointed at it. As it turned out, we weren't in a room. We were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now I knew why it was forbidden. We were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. I looked down and noticed it was standing on a trapdoor. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and I was sure that the only reason we weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

We all groped for the doorknob. Between Filch and death, I'd take Filch in a heartbeat. We fell backward - Harry slammed the door shut, and we ran, we almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for us somewhere else, because I didn't see him anywhere, but I hardly cared - all I wanted to do was put as much space as possible between me and that monster. We didn't stop running until we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at our bathrobes hanging off our shoulders and our flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. We scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of us said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again. I probably wasn't that much better.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

"And why is locked away with something even a first-year can open?" I asked.

Hermione had gotten both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"It was standing on a trapdoor," I said.

"It's obviously guarding something," Hermione said.

She stood up, glaring at us.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

"Er… Hermione?" I said.

"Yes, I'm angry at you too, Jonathan," she said. "You're also a part of this."

"I know you're angry at me," I said. "But I don't think being expelled is worse than being killed, do you?"

"Shut up," she snapped and went up to the girls' dormitory.

"She really needs to sort out her priorities," Ron said.

"She's just in a bad mood," I said. "She isn't normally like this."

_A/N: WOW this chapter was long.6,191 words, excluding the author's note. Seventeen pages. And I have something good planned for chapter ten._

_**Review or Fluffy will EAT YOU! Muhahaha!**_


	10. Halloween (Trolls Stink Horribly)

_A/N: There are some things I really need to address. They all happened last week in Europe. Two things. One, the Polish parliament banned kosher slaughter, which means Jews can no longer get kosher meat in Poland and have to have it imported from other countries, and the other, the European Union's boycott of the so-called "Israeli-occupied territories". The first thing – last time this kind of thing happened was in 1935, as part of the Nuremberg Laws, and that's eerily similar to today's situation. World's been in a bad economic situation for five and a half years and this is being passed along with other clearly anti-Semitic things happening all over Europe. The second thing – the boycott. It won't have too much effect on the West Bank settlements – and notice this only applies to Jewish settlements, not Arab towns and villages – but it will affect Jewish East Jerusalem neighborhoods and Golan Heights settlements, and it's more about the message this kind of thing conveys:_

**EU**: Le GASP! The Israelis are slightly inconveniencing the Palestinians! Let's boycott said inconveniences!

**Israel**: Are you going boycott Assad for not-so-slightly inconveniencing the twenty-two million citizens of Syria, too?

**EU**: Assad? No, forget him. He may have killed one hundred thousand of his own citizens and displaced over one and a half million others, but at least he's not building settlements in the West Bank! You, however, may be a perfectly good democracy whose democracy is to be admired considering your lovely neighbors, who try to keep civilian casualties to a minimum, who have never discriminated between two people based on gender, race, or religion, thereby preceding the States and Switzerland, and who make sure citizens can live as well as possible as demonstrated by the high living standard in your country and you having the ninth-highest life expectancy in the world, but you build settlements and we can't have that!

_So yeah, the EU is full of hypocrites. Ah well, nothing new there. What I'm more concerned about is the rising level of anti-Semitism in Europe. Things are not looking good for the Jews in Europe right now. It's getting eerily similar to the 1930s, and guess what happened then? That's right, WWII started in 1939 and the Holocaust started in 1940! May I add that WWII, or more specifically the Holocaust, was a direct result the Great Depression and how Jews were less affected by it (because we have a great mind, which South Korea figured out and decided to do the same thing we did to get it)? So yeah, there are comparisons between the current worldwide economic crisis, otherwise known as the Great Recession, and the Great Depression, and Israel, the Jewish state, was not as affected by the Great Recession as the rest of the world (because we're smart and South Korea thought it would be a good idea to imitate us). But enough of that!_

_Last chapter, Jonathan discovered that Harry had been beaten up by the Dursleys. Now, I know this is a much-debated question in the Potter series, and I want to make my opinion clear. I do think the Dursleys beat up Harry, as they are shown to be more than okay with Dudley beating up Harry and Dudley is always compared to Vernon, and there are many instances in the books that suggest that the Dursleys did beat Harry up – in Book Two, Aunt Petunia swung a frying pan at Harry's head for scaring Dudley and Harry was described as being trembling all over after the whole thing with Dobby and Petunia's cake. Now, something may be done about this later on in these stories, but since the Israeli system is modeled after the British system and that includes the justice system, I'm really sorry for everyone who wants the system to put a stop to that, because that's just never gonna happen. At least, not in Israel. Now, Jonathan's parents will try to push for something to be done, and I guess that eventually something will be done. That is, if Jonathan tells anyone about what Harry's been through._

_Disclaimer_: Do I really need to say it?

I woke up a bit late the next day, tired from last night's adventure. Dean and Seamus had already left, and Neville was still asleep. By the time I had gotten dressed and prepared the things I'd need for today's lessons, Ron and Harry were already up and dressed. We left the common room together and walked down to breakfast. While we were walking Harry told Ron and me about what he thought the dog was guarding – a package, removed from Gringotts on Harry's birthday by Hagrid, who had been accompanying him.

"It was in Vault 713, which also happened to have been broken into later that day," he said.

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "The vault had been emptied earlier that day!"

"How d'you know about that?" asked Harry.

"Hermione, Dean, and I visited Hagrid on Friday," I said. "I saw the clipping."

"Well, whatever that thing is, it's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

But as all we knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, as Harry had told us, we didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

The look on Malfoy's face as we walked into the Great Hall was priceless. I wished I had a camera so I could take a picture. I had gotten over the terror of meeting the three-headed dog and thought it had been quite the adventure. I was looking forward to another nighttime stroll like that. However, neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again, as he told us when we sat down.

Hermione gave me the cold shoulder throughout Friday and was outright refusing to speak to Harry and Ron. However, she'd forgiven me by Saturday. I told Dean all about our little adventure at breakfast on Saturday, and we started plotting ways to get back at Malfoy, none of which we got to carry out, as a much better opportunity arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, my attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. I was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right over mine and Harry's heads. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel. I lifted the parcel off our heads and Harry ripped open the letter and showed it to me. It read:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new broomsticks – both Nimbus Two Thousands (just in case you need it, Mr. Alderton), but I don't want everybody knowing you've got broomsticks or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you two tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry was grinning from ear to ear as he handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously, passing me the note. "I've never even touched one."

I showed Hermione and Dean the note. Dean was staring at the parcel in awe and Hermione said, "I can't believe you two got rewarded for your stunt last week."

We all left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomsticks in private before our first class, but halfway across the entrance hall we found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and me (we were carrying it together) and felt it.

"Those are broomsticks," he said, throwing it back to us with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, Alderton, first years aren't allowed them."

"It's not any old broomstick," said Ron smugly, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Those two have been sent broomsticks, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at us.

"Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstance. And what models are they?"

"Nimbus Two Thousands, sir," I said, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face.

"And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that we got them," Harry added.

We headed upstairs, smothering our laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as we reached the Grand Staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall we wouln't be on the team..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" Hermione said, slightly amused.

"Yeah, I guess so," I grinned. "Rules are meant to be broken, after all."

"He has a point," said Dean.

"You two are such idiots," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

We put the broomsticks under Harry's bed and went down to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I was trying to keep my mind on my lessons, an impossible feat in itself with Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic in the same day, but it kept wandering up to the dormitory where my new broomstick was lying under Harry's bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where we'd be learning to play that night. I grabbed two pieces of bread from dinner, and then rushed upstairs with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dean to unwrap our broomsticks at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomsticks rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Now, I knew nothing about the different brooms, but I thought it was beautiful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry and I left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. I'd never been inside a Quidditch field before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded me of bubble blowers, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, I mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. Harry quickly followed suit. I waited for Harry to reach my height and then said, "Race you to the hoops!"

"You're on," he said.

We shot off. It was a really great feeling – rollercoasters seemed dull next to this. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever I wanted at my lightest touch. Harry beat me through the center hoop, but only slightly.

"Quit showing off, you two, and come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. We landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a naturals. I'm just going to teach you two the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side."

"Seven players?" I asked. "And you only have one reserve?"

"Well, our players are usually in shape," he said. "The reserve almost never gets to play in a real game – just in team practices. Anyway, three of the players are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a football.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me, Alderton? Potter?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited.

"So sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops?" I asked.

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," said Harry quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper - I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"I'm great at that!" I said.

"Good," he said. "Maybe you can replace me after I leave."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harry. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed us both small clubs, a bit like a short baseball bats.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed us two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. I noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned us. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers. At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat and sent it zigzagging away into the air - it zoomed around their heads and then shot at me. I swung my bat at it and it flew to the other side of the field, bounced off one of the hoops, and shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team - the Weasley twins are ours, though you'd make a damn good Beater too, Alderton - it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So - think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts," Harry said.

"The Beaters make sure the Bludgers don't bloody the players up too badly," I said, quoting Fred.

"That's an interesting way to put it, but yes," said Wood.

"Er - have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked.

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" I said.

Wood chuckled. "Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you, Potter. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers –"

"- unless they crack my head open," said Harry.

"Keep this up and you'll break the world record for pessimism," I said dryly.

"Don't worry," said Wood. "The Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages - I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep."

"That sounds good, but you'd need to get six more reserves in that case," I said.

"Well, that's it," he said. "Any questions?"

Harry shook his head and I said, "No, I'm good." I understood everything, it was just a matter of keeping track who I was replacing when.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you two out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, we were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry and me to catch. Harry and I were almost even, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and we couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as we trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you two turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

We practiced Quidditch three times a week. Harry and I fit in great with the rest of the team, and Wood admitted that it having an extra Chaser and Seeker for practices made his life a whole lot easier. The lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that we had mastered the basics, and before I knew it, it was Halloween. I woke up on Halloween morning to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought we were ready to start making objects fly, something everyone had been dying to try since they'd seen my ability. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. My partner was Fay Dunbar, Dean's was Neville. Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione and it was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. Those two couldn't stand each other.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was quite easy, although I suspected that had more to do with the fact that I had practice without my wand. Flitwick, of course, was very pleased and gave me two points for Gryffindor. Fay, however, wasn't as lucky, and I noticed she was slightly exaggerating her movements. I gently corrected her and she managed to do it. Dean and Neville weren't doing so well – Neville had somehow turned their feather into a chicken, which strutted out of the classroom. Even worse were Ron and Hermione.

"_Wingardium leviosa_!" shouted Ron, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"Stop, stop, stop," snapped Hermione. "You're going to take someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it wrong – it's levi-_o_-sa, not leviosar!"

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "_Wingardium leviosa_!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above our heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Another two points to Gryffindor!"

Suddenly, there was an explosion. Seamus had tried to cast the spell and instead had blown up his and Harry's feather, along with his face.

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's only three people in the entire school can stand her, and I bet even they're just trying to be nice," I heard him saying to Harry as we pushed our way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

"Hey!" I said angrily. "First of all, Hermione's been my friend for six years and second, that's no way to talk to a person! You okay, Hermione?"

There was no answer. I looked around and saw Hermione's bushy hair disappearing in the crowd.

"Well done, Ron," I snapped.

"What did I do?" said Ron, looking a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed that you two and Neville are her only friends."

"Just shut up," I snarled.

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and we didn't see her all afternoon. On our way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, I asked Parvati and Lavender if they'd seen Hermione. They told me that she was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone.

"Happy, Ron?" I asked angrily.

"What?" he said awkwardly.

A moment later we entered the Great Hall, which was decorated for Halloween. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles, which had been put in Jack-O-Lanterns, stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

"You know," I said loudly to Dean, intending for Ron to hear me, "it's really a shame Hermione's hiding in the bathroom and missing the feast."

"Stop it!" Ron said uncomfortably.

"Why should I?" I said. "You're the reason she's hiding in the bathroom!"

"Just shut it, you two!" said Harry. "You're getting on my nerves!"

I was just about to retort when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. We all stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"We have to tell Hermione," I told Dean.

"Right," he said and we slipped out of the line while a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs jostled past and hurried towards the girls' bathroom. As we got closer, we got a foul stench of a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

"Can you smell something?" I heard someone say. It was Ron.

"Hello," I said coolly, startling him.

"Jonathan! Dean!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing our friend, who's only stuck in this mess in the first place because you're a git," I said.

"I'm not –"

"Quiet!" Harry snapped. "Something's coming."

I could hear it - a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed - at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. We shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight. It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears looking like it was thinking (the look did not suit it at all), then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"No, you dolt!" I said. "Hermione's in there!"

Dean pulled the door open and we ran inside.

Hermione was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to the rest of us, and, seizing a tap, I threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw me. It hesitated, then made for me instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oi, pea-brain!" yelled Dean from the other side of the chamber, and he and Ron threw a metal pipes at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving me time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione and we both tried to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind and his wand went straight up one of the troll's nostrils. Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on desperately; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Dean and Ron were staring; I pulled out my own wand and suddenly had a brilliant idea. Remembering what Flitwick had said, I swished and flicked, but said, "_Wingardium leviofa!"_

The troll was suddenly knocked back by an unseen force. Harry jumped off it and landed by its side. A humongous buffalo fell out of the ceiling on top of the troll.

The buffalo got off the troll and went out the door. The troll, still dazed, was trying to get up and Ron shouted, "_Wingardium leviosa_!"

The troll's club was lifted out of its hand. With Ron's wand guiding it, it bonked the troll on the head, and it collapsed.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it - dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh - troll boogers," he said disgustedly.

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the five of us look up.

They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars, and they definitely saw the giant buffalo if they were passing by. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart. Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Harry, Dean, and me. I had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. We were definitely in trouble.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. We looked at each other. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory? And why is there a buffalo here?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hogwarts was full of impossibilities – first Hermione didn't know a thing about the Wizarding world, and now she was telling a downright lie to a teacher.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Dean threw things at it, Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Jonathan brought the buffalo down on it, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

I tried to look as though this story wasn't new to me. I succeeded. I was a good liar – not that I lied much.

"Well - in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the five of us, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. We were all speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to the rest of us.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

We hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until we had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than twenty points," Ron grumbled.

"Fifteen, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if you weren't such a git," I reminded him. "You should apologize."

"Right," he said.

We had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," I said and we entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for us. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of us looking at each other, we all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione, Dean, and I became much closer to Harry and Ron. There are some things you can't share without ending up becoming close, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

_A/N: Don't you just love trick spells?_

_**Review or a buffalo will fall out of the sky on you.**_


	11. Quidditch (Hermione Torches A Teacher)

_A/N: Hello, hello! I must say I like the amount of views and the amount of countries I'm getting them from. For July, I have 220 views from the States, Canada, Poland, France, the UK, Ireland, Denmark, Sweden, Austria, Spain, the Netherlands, Israel, Brazil, Indonesia, Nigeria, Estonia, Portugal, Italy, and Argentina. For this, the author's note and the disclaimer will be translated._

_U/A: Cześć, cześć! Muszę powiedzieć, że podoba mi się ilość poglądów i ilość krajów dostaję je od. W lipcu, mam 220 widoki z USA, Kanada, Polska, Francja, Brytania, Irlandia, Dania, Szwecja, Austria, Hiszpania, Niderlandy, Izrael, Brazylia, Indonezja, Nigeria, Estonia, Portugalia, Włochy i Argentyna. W tym, uwaga autora i zrzeczenie się będą przetłumaczone._

_N/A: Bonjour, bonjour ! Je dois dire que j'aime le montant des vues et le montant des pays de que j'obtiens. Pour juillet, j'ai 220 vues des États-Unis, Canada, Pologne, France, Grande-Bretagne, Irlande, Danemark, Suède, Autriche, Espagne, Pays-Bas, Israël, Brésil, Indonésie, Nigeria, Estonie, Portugal, Italie, et Argentine. Pour cette, la note de l'auteur et la désistement seront traduit._

_N/Ú: Dia duit, dia duit! Chaithfidh mé a rá gur mhaith liom an méid tuairimí méid na dtíortha tá mé ag dul dóibh as. Do mhí Iúil, tá mé 200 tuairimí ó SAM, Ceanada, an Pholainn, an Fhrainc, Bhreatain, Éire, an Danmhairg, an tSualainn, an Ostair, an Spáinn, an Ísiltír, Iosrael, an Bhrasaíl, Indinéis, an Nigéir, an Eastóin, an Phortaingéil, an Iodáil agus an Airgintín. Chun seo, beidh an t-údar nóta agus an fhógra dlithiúil-séantóir a aistriú._

_F/N: Hej, hej! Jeg må sige, at jeg gerne mængden af synspunkter og mængden af lande jeg får dem fra. For juli, jeg har 220 udsigt fra USA, Canada, Polen, Frankrig, Storbritannien, Irland, Danmark, Sverige, Østrig, Spanien, Holland, Israel, Brasilien, Indonesien, Nigeria, Estland, Portugal, Italien og Argentina. Til dette, forfatterens note og ansvarsfraskrivelse vil blive oversat._

_F/A: Hallå, hallå! Jag måste säga att jag gillar mängden visningar och mängden av länderna jag får dem från. För juli, jag har 220 synpunkter från USA, Kanada, Polen, Frankrige, Storbritannien, Irland, Danmark, Sverige, Österrike, Spanien, Nederländerna, Israel, Brasilien, Indonesien, Nigeria, Estland, Portugal, Italien och Argentina. För detta, författerens anmärkning och friskrivningsklausul kommer att översättas._

_A/A: Hallo, hallo! Ich muss, dass mag ich die Menge von Ansichten und die Menge von Ländern, dass bekomme ich sie von sagen. Im Juli, habe ich 220 Ansichten von VSA, Kanada, Polen, Frankreich, Großbritannien, Irland, Dänemark, Schweden, Österreich, Spanien, Niederlande, Israel, Brasilien, Indonesien, Estland, Portugal, Italien und Argentinien. Dazu, wirden die Anmerkung des Autors und der Haftungsausschluss übersetzt._

_N/A: ¡Hola, hola! Debo decir que me gustan la cantidad de vistas y la cantidad de países de que yo las obtieno. En Julio, tengo 220 vistas de los Estados Unidos, Canadá, Polonia, Francia, Britania, Irlandia, Dinamarca, Suecia, Austria, España, los Países Bajos, Israel, Brasil, Indonesia, Estonia, Portugal, Italia, y Argentina. Por este, la nota del autor y la renuncia serán traducido._

_O/A: Hallo, hallo! Ik moet zeggen dat ik graag het bedrag van de standpunten en het bedrag van de landen ik ze steeds uit. Voor juli, ik hab 220 standpunted uit VSA, Canada, Polen, Frankrijk, Groot-Brittannië, Ierland, Denemarken, Zweden, Oostenrijk, Spanje, Nederland, Israël, Brazilië, Indonesië, Estland, Portugal, Italië en Argentinië. Hiervoor, noot van de auteur en de ontkenning zullen worden vertaald._

_ה__/__מ__: __אני חייב להגיד שאני אוהב את כמות הצפיות ואת כמות הארצות שמהן אני מקבל את הצפיות__. __בחודש יולי קיבלתי __220 __צפיות מארה__"__ב__, __קנדה__, __פולין__, __צרפת__, __בריטניה__, __אירלנד__, __דנמרק__, __שבדיה__, __אוסטריה__, __ספרד__, __הולנד__, __ישראל__, __ברזיל__, __אינדונזיה__, __אסטוניה__, __פורטוגל__, __איטליה וארגנטינה__. __לכן הערת המחבר וההצהרה יתורגמו__._

_H/M: Aní ħayáv l'hagíd she-aní ohév et kamút ha-ts'fiyót v-et kamút ha-aratsót she-mehén aní meqabél et ha-ts'fiyót. B-ħódesh Yúli qibálti matáyim v-'esrím ts'fiyót m-Artsót ha-Brít, Qánada, Polín, Tsarfát, B'ritánya, Írland, Dénemarq, Sh'védya, Óstriya, S'farád, Hóland, Yisra'él, B'razíl, Indonézya, Estónya, Portugál, Itálya v-Argentína. Lakhén he'arát ha-m'ħabér v-ha-hats'hará y'turg'mú._

_ت__/__ك__: __أنا ضروري يقول أنا أحب كمية المشاهدات وكمية البلدان منهن انا احصل على المشاهدات__. __في شهر تموز تلقيت ٢٢٠ مشاهدات من الولايات المتحدة__, __كندا__, __بولندا__, __فرنسا__, __بريطانيا__, __ايرلندا__, __الدنمارك__, __السويد__, __النمسا__, __إسبانيا__, __هولندا__, __إسرائيل__, __البرازيل__, __أندونيسيا__, __إستونيا__, __البرتغال__, __ايطاليا والأرجنتين__. __لذلك يترجمون تعليق الكاتب والبيان__._

_t/m: anaa Darooriyy yaqoolu anaa uHibbu kamiyyat almushaahidaat wakamiyyat albaladaan minhunna anaa aHSalu `alaa almushaahidaat. fee shahr tammooz talqaytoo `ashreen wama'ataan mushaahidaat min alwilaayaat almuttaHidah, kanadaa, boolanda, faransa, bareeTaanyaa, eerlandaa, addinimaark, assuweed, annamasaa, isbaanyaa, hoolandaa, israa'eel, albaraazeel, andooneesyaa, istoonyaa, alburtughaal, eeTaalyaa wal'arjinteen. lidhalika yuttarjimoona ta`leeq alkaatib walbayaan._

_N/A: Olá, olá! Devo dizer que eu gosto a quantidade das vistas e a quantidade dos países de que eu os recebo as vistas. Para julho, eu tenho 220 vistas dos Estados Unidos, Canadá, Polônia, França, Grã-Bretanha, Irlanda, Dinamarca, Suécia, Áustria, Espanha, Holanda, Israel, Brasil, Indonésia, Estônia, Portugal, Itália, e Argentina. Por esta, a nota do autor e o aviso será traduzido._

_C/P: Halo, halo! Saya harus mengatakan bahwa saya seperti jumlah penayangan dan jumlah negara saya mendapatkan mereka dari. Untuk Juli, saya memiliki 220 dilihat dari Amerika Serikat, Kanada, Polandia, Perancis, Inggris, Irlandia, Denmark, Swedia, Austria, Spanyol, Belanda, Israel, Brasil, Indonesia, Estonia, Portugal, Italia, dan Argentina. Untuk ini, catatan penulis dan sangkalan akan diterjemahkan._

_A/M: Tere, tere! Pean ütlema, et mulle meeldib palju arvamusi ja summa riikides ma saan neid. Aasta juuli, ma pean seisukohti Ameerika Ühendriigid, Kanada, Poola, Prantsusmaa, Suurbritannia, Iirimaa, Taani, Rootsi, Austria, Hispaania, Holland, Iisrael, Brasiilia, Indoneesia, Eesti, Portugal, Itaalia ja Argentina. Selleks autori märkus ja lahtiütlemine tõlgitakse._

_N/A: Ciao, ciao! Devo dire che mi piace la quantità di punti di vista e la quantità di paesi li sto ricevendo da. Per il mese di luglio, ho vedute provenienti da Stati Uniti, Canada, Polonia, Francia, Gran Bretagna, Irlanda, Danimarca, Svezia, Austria, Spagna, Olanda, Israele, Brasile, Indonesia, Estonia, Portogallo, Italia e Argentina. Per questo, nota l'autore e la clausola di esclusione saranno tradotti._

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than the self-insert.

_Zrzeczenie się_: Nie mam własnego Harry Potter lub każdy ze znaków innych niż własny wkładki.

_Exclusion_: Je ne possède pas Harry Potter ou l'un des caractères autres que l'auto-insert.

_Séanadh_: Ní féidir liom féin Harry Potter nó aon cheann de na carachtair eile seachas an féin-isteach.

_Ansvarsfraskrivelse_r: Jeg ejer ikke Harry Potter eller nogen af de andre tegn end de selvstændige indsættelse.

_Eksklusjon_: Jag äger inte Harry Potter eller någon av de andra tecken än den egna insatsen.

_Haftungsausschluss_: Ich besitze kein Harry Potter oder einem der anderen Zeichen als den Selbste-Einsetzen.

_Renuncia_: No soy dueño de Harry Potter o cualquiera de los caracteres que no sean la propia inserción.

_Ontkenning_: Ik heb geen eigen Harry Potter of een van de andere dan de zelf-invoeging karakters.

_הצהרה_: אני לא הבעלים של הארי פוטר או של הדמויות חוץ מההכנסה העצמית.

_Hats'hará_: Aní lo ha-b'alím shel Hári Póter o shel ha-d'muyót ħuts m-ha-hakhnasá he-'atsmít.

_تنويه_: أنا لا تملك هاري بوتر أو أي من الشخصيات الأخرى من تركيبها الذاتي.

_tanawiyyah_: anaa laa tamluku haaree buutir aw ay min asshakhSayaat al'ukhraa min tarkeebhaa addhaatiyy.

_Renúncia_: Eu não possuo Harry Potter ou qualquer um dos outros do que a auto-inserção de caracteres.

_Sangkalan_: Saya tidak sendiri Harry Potter atau salah satu karakter lain selain diri-insersi.

_Esclusione_: Non possiedo Harry Potter o di uno qualsiasi dei caratteri diversi da quello auto-inserimento.

November came, and the weather became cold as Cambridge was only in January. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots. On the Saturday of November, Fred and George gave us ice skating shoes they'd bought in Hogsmeade and we skated on the lake. I fell many times before I got the hang of it, and I wasn't sure if it was more due to my inexperience or my clumsiness.

The Quidditch season had begun. On the second Sunday of November, the first match would be held: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, we would move up into second place in the house championship. Hardly anyone had seen Harry or me play because Wood had decided that, as our secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. I didn't have to be secret because I was just a reserve, but since Harry and I only trained with the rest of the team and hardly anyone was allowed to our training sessions, hardly anyone had seen me play either. But the news that Harry was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and the poor kid looked terrified when people kept telling him either that he'd be brilliant or that they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

Even with all the Quidditch training, I still found time to finish my homework and even help Harry and Ron a little. In my spare time, I reread _Quidditch Through the Ages_. I memorized the seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul - all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; I took note that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; and that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had stopped nagging Harry and Ron about breaking rules since the troll incident (with Dean and me she'd stopped all the way back in year three, realizing it was completely pointless), and Ron was less of a git to her (though now they bickered much more). The day before the Quidditch match the five of us were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured us up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. I noticed at once that he was limping. We moved closer together to block the fire from view; I wasn't sure it was allowed. Unfortunately, something about Harry's, Ron's, Dean's, and Hermione's guilty faces (not mine – I was good at lying) must have caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He probably hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell us off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Alderton?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_. I showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape.

"Actually, sir, that's mine," I said. "You can even check."

I gave him the book. He looked at the inside of the cover and returned it me when he saw that it didn't belong to the library.

"Very well," he said. "Do get in soon. Your next lesson is about to begin."

"Thanks, sir," I said politely.

"What's wrong with his leg?" asked Harry after Snape had left.

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron.

"Well, I'm going to see," said Harry, going off towards the staffroom.

"Does he have to be so nosy?" asked Hermione.

"As if you're any better," said Ron.

"Maybe," said Hermione hotly, "but I don't stalk teachers just because they're limping."

"No," snorted Ron, "you just stalk them to see if you can get a better grade."

"No, I don't!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, you do," said Ron.

"Mind shutting up?" I asked them. "Your bickering is getting on my nerves."

Just then, Harry came back, looking shaken.

"About time!" I said. "Next time, take Ron with you, will you? I can't stand their bickering."

"Never mind that now," he said breathlessly and we started walking towards the Transfiguration classroom. "I saw Snape – his leg was all mangled, Filch was helping him bandage it – he said he had to keep his eyes on all three heads. You know what this means?"

"He tried to get past that three-headed dog?" I said, putting the pieces together.

"At Halloween!" said Harry. "That's where he was going when we saw him - he's after whatever it's guarding!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Dean. "When did you see him at Halloween?"

"When we were getting to the bathroom to tell Hermione about the troll," said Ron, "we saw Snape going towards the third floor."

"Exactly," said Harry. "And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No - he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape."

"I don't exactly trust Snape," I said, "but I think you're jumping to conclusions too quick. Maybe he was just trying to check on it?"

"You've been hanging around Hermione way too long," said Ron. "Can't you see –"

"I'm not ruling out the possibility that he is trying to steal it," I said. "I'm just saying that we should consider all options. What do you think, Dean?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Maybe he is after it, maybe he isn't. It'd help if we knew what that dog was guarding."

Harry went to bed early that night after I convinced him that he needed his sleep before the Quidditch match. Once he was in the dormitory, Ron pulled out of his bag a bedsheet, which he explained Scabbers, his rat, had chewed on the first night at Hogwarts. The first-year Gryffindors all drew a banner that said, "POTTER FOR PRESIDENT" and painted a large Gryffindor lion on it (much credit goes to Dean with the lion). Hermione and I performed charms that made the banner change colors and the lion roar.

That night, I had strange dreams about Snape fighting the three-headed dog, including an amusing one where he leaped onto the dog and charged right into the Great Hall while buffaloes rained from the ceiling –

I was suddenly woken up by Dean's alarm clock. It was very bright and it looked cold outside. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match and there was a distinct lack of Snape-carrying three-headed dogs and raining buffaloes.

"You've got to eat some breakfast," Hermione was saying concernedly when I got there.

"I don't want anything," said Harry, who was looking quite queasy.

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

I believed him. I'd always felt that way before football matches with other schools.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry.

"Any more optimistic thoughts you'd like to share?" I asked Seamus. He probably didn't hear me, as he was too busy trying to turn his water into rum. He didn't manage to do it, but he did manage to blow the water and his face up. It reminded me slightly of Ron's attempt to turn Scabbers yellow – although he didn't blow Scabbers or himself up, he too tried casting spells with English poems rather than single Latin words.

By eleven o'clock we were all out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Seamus had binoculars with many strange knobs on them called "_omnioculars_". He explained that they worked sort of like Muggle video cameras.

We waited in the stands while the players were getting ready. Wood walked out the Gryffindor locker room first and everyone burst into cheers. Ron, Neville, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, and I cheered loudest and waved the banner when Harry got out. Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Welcome to the first match of the season – Gryffindor versus Slytherin!" said the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan. "I'm Lee Jordan and I'll be commentating. On the Gryffindor side, we've got Wood, Johnson, Spinnet, Bell, Weasley, Weasley, and Potter!"

The Gryffindors all cheered for their team.

"On the Slytherin side, we've got Flint, Shabes, Pucey, Derrick, Bole, Bletchley, and Higgs!"

The Slytherins cheered for their team.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," said Madam Hooch, once the players had all gathered around her. That was the first time I'd seen the Slytherin team. They all looked like Crabbe and Goyle – big and stupid.

"Mount your brooms, please," said Madam Hooch.

Everyone mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor. And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Hermione and I squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join us.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of omnioculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his omnioculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Harry did a couple of loop-the-loops. He was staying out of the game – just looking for the Snitch. That was our strategy. "Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be." Once a Bludger came after him, but he dodged it and one of the Weasley twins beat it toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

I squinted up at the stadium. Yes, there did seem to be a gold glint next to Adrian Pucey, who dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Harry started diving towards it. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. They both hurtled towards the Snitch - all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs – I could see him stretching out his hand -

WHAM! Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Dean was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In football you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"This isn't football, Dean," I reminded him. "But you're right. Flint could've knocked Harry off his broom."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul –"

"Jordan, I'm warning you -"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Harry dodged another Bludger and suddenly, his broom seemed to try to throw him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts, but the broom was completely out of his control. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherins score - Ah no..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one except me seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his omnioculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand. I quickly lifted him back onto his broom with my ability and suspended him in midair.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's omnioculars, but instead of

looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape - look."

I grabbed the omninoculars and zoomed in. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite us. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?" asked Ron.

"Leave it to me."

"Good luck," I called after her. "I'll keep him in the air."

Hermione disappeared. Seamus gave Ron his omnioculars and we both turned them on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. I just managed to keep Harry on his broom. The twins dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Suddenly, Snape burst into bright blue flames. It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire – but then the flames had disappeared; Snape would never know what had happened. It was enough. Up in the air, the broom suddenly stopped trying to throw Harry off. I let him go.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when I saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint howled, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was happily shouting the results - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. When Harry got out of the locker room, Dean, Ron, Hermione, he, and I walked down to Hagrid's hut.

"It was Snape," Ron explained, "we saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Hermione set him on fire to stop him," I said. "It was wicked."

Hermione blushed.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

We all looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. I decided on the truth.

"We found out something about him," I told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," said Dean.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione. The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"Maybe those incidents are unrelated," I said carefully. "Again, we shouldn't be too quick to jump to conclusions."

"Why do you trust him so much?" asked Ron.

"I don't," I told him. "I'm just saying we need to take all options into consideration."

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer both wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel -"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

_A/N: This one was a bit shorter – just the match. Anyways, stay tuned! And thanks!_

_U/A: Ten był nieco krótszy – tylko mecz. W każdym razie, pobcie dymiące! I dziękuwanie!_

_N/A: Celui-ci était un peu plus courte – seulement le match. De toute façon, restez réglés ! Et merci !_

_N/Ú: Bhí sé seo ar cheann le beagán níos giorra – ach an cluiche. Ar aon nós, fanaigí tiúnta! Agus go raibh maith agat!_

_F/N: Denne ene var en smule kortere – bare kampen. Alligevel, opholde tunet! Og tak!_

_F/A: Här var lite kortare – bara matchen. Ändå, bo stämd! Och tack!_

_A/A: Dieser war ein bisschen kürzer – nur das Speil. Sowieso, bleiben Sie gestimmt! Und danke!_

_N/A: Esto fue un poco más corto – sólo el partido. De todos modos, ¡permaneced afinados! Y ¡gracias!_

_O/A: Dit was een beetje korter – enkel de wedstrijd. Hoe dan ook, blijven afstemd! En bedankt!_

_ה__/__מ__: __זה היה קצת יותר קצר – רק המשחק__. __בכל מקרה__, __תישארו מכוונים__! __ותודה__!_

_H/M: Ze hayá q'tsat yotér qatsár – raq ha-misħáq. B-khol miqré, tisha'arú m'khuvaním! V'todá!_

_ت__/__ك__: __كانت هذه واحدة أقصر قليلا__. __على أي حال__,__أ__بقى__للاطلاع__! __وشكرا__!_

_t/m: kaanib hadhihi waaHidah aqSar qaleelan. `alaa ayy Haal, ibqaa lil'iTlaa`! washukran!_

_N/A: Este foi um pouco mais curto – somente a partida. De qualquer maneira, fiquem ajustados! E obrigado!_

_C/P: Satu ini sedikit lebih pendek – hanya pertandingan. Toh, tinggal disetel! Dan terima kasih!_

_A/M: See üks oli natuke lühem – ainult mängu. Niikuinii, jää häälestatud! Ja aitäh!_

_N/A: Questo era un po' più breve – solo la partita. Comunque, rimanete sintonizzato! E grazie!_

_**Review or Hermione will burn you up. Look out for Chapter 12!**_

_**Recenzowcie lub Hermione podpala ciebie. Zwrócie uwagę na Rozdział Dwanaście!**_

_**Révisez ou Hermione vous mettra le feu. Regardez dehors pour Chapitre Douze !**_

_**Athbhreithniú a dhéanamh ar nó Hermione srután sibh. Ag faire amach do Chaibidil Dhá Cheann Déag De!**_

_**Revid eller Hermione vil jer brænd. Ser ud til Kapitel Tolv!**_

_**Recensera eller Hermione skolar er bränna. Se upp för Kapitel Tolv!**_

_**Üperfrüfen Sie oder Hermione würd Sie brennen. Ausschauen Sie nach Kapitel Zwölf!**_

_**Evaluad o Hermione vos quemará. ¡Buscad Capítulo Doce!**_

_**Herzien of Hermione will je branden. Kijk uit voor Hoofdstuk Twaalf!**_

_**הגיבו או שהרמיוני תשרוף אתכם**__**. **__**תצפו לפרק **__**12!**_

_**Hagívu o she-Hermayóni tisróf etkhém. T'tsapú l-péreq sh'tem-esré!**_

_**أنقلوأ أو ستشعلكم هيرميون**__**.**_ _**أبحثوا عن نان إثنا عشر**__**!**_

_**unquloo aww satush`alukum heermiyooni. ibHathoo `an baab ithnaa `ashr!**_

_**Revejam ou Hermione vocês quiemará. Olhem para for a Capítula Doze!**_

_**Mamberikan tinjauan atau Hermione membakar anda. Melihat keluar untuk Bab Duabelas!**_

_**Vaadake või Hermione põletab te. Tutvu Peatükk Kaksteist!**_

_**Recensite o Hermione voi bruciarà. Guardati fuori per Capitolo Dodici!**_


	12. Nicolas Flamel (My Sister Jump-Hugs Me)

_A/N: There might be some confusion as to which variant of English I'm using – British or American – because I use British words like mum instead of mom and football instead of soccer and American spellings like realize instead of realise and defense instead of defence. My policy with those things is talk British, spell American. For example, if a word, like defense, is spelled differently but the spelling has no effect on the pronunciation (realize vs. realise, practice vs. practise), I'll use the American spelling, because A) that's what I'm used to, B) that's the only spelling Word recognizes (although that's because I have it set to English (United States)). If the spelling does have an effect on the pronunciation (mom vs. mum) or they're two completely different words (soccer vs. football, trunk vs. boot), I'll use the British word. That's because Jonathan is British, so naturally he'd be thinking in British English, but the since the spelling doesn't matter, I'll use the American spellings. My sister was going to show this thing to one of her American friends, but then she realized it would confuse them, and I'll admit when I wrote that Jonathan put his trunk in Mrs. Granger's car's boot, I had a mental image of myself trying to stuff an elephant on top of a reversing car both under a thick-trunked tree into a boot – you know, those big shoes you wear so you could step in puddles. *laughs his head off* And when I was writing the whole Quidditch vs. soccer argument Dean and Ron had, I was about to have Jonathan interject and say that football is a lot more violent than Quidditch before I remembered that football was soccer. It's even weirder in Hebrew – we don't have different words for soccer and football (American football); soccer is __כדורגל __kadurégel (foot-ball) and football (American football) is__פוטבול__fútbol. Spanish follows the British system – soccer is fútbol and American football is fútbol americano. By the way, the origin of the American English soccer is a shortening of "association rules football," which is a specific term for soccer, rather than the generic "football", which includes soccer, American football, Australian rules football, and rugby._

_Disclaimer_: Apparently I'm still not JKR. But I do own Jonathan. Of course I do, he's me!

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, the Great Hall's windows were covered in snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. Poor Athena, who had come to deliver a letter from my parents, had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before she could fly back to the Owlery.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where our breath rose in a mist before them and we kept as close as possible to our hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry ignored them.

"And I do feel so sorry," I shot back at him, "for all those people who have to be gits because they can't get over the fact that they lost one match."

"Why don't you shut up, you filthy little Mudblood," he sneered.

"Twenty points off Slytherin, Malfoy, and you will come serve a detention this evening," snapped Snape, who had just passed Malfoy's table.

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because we were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

Harry was indeed staying for the holidays, as was Ron. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. Dean, Hermione, and I, however were spending the holidays at home.

When we left the dungeons at the end of Potions, we found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told me that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind us. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

"Nobody's laughing, Malfoy," I informed him as Dean and I grabbed Ron's arms to restrain him from hitting Malfoy.

"Think I care, Mudblood?" asked Malfoy.

"MALFOY!"

It was Snape. He was standing behind Malfoy, looking furious.

"Twenty more points," he said, "and a detention tomorrow. You will not be saying that word, Malfoy."

"But, Professor –"

"Not a word, Malfoy. Come with me, now. Move along, the rest of you."

Crabbe and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, throwing menacing looks at me. I looked coldly back at them.

"Since when does Snape take points off Slytherin?" asked Dean, surprised.

"Since people say the M-word, apparently," I said.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth, "one of these days, I'll get him -"

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

We followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree - put it in the far corner, would you?" said Professor McGonagall.

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me - we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following us out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here - I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," I said.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere - just give us a hint - I know I've read his name somewhere."

"Now that you mention it," I told him, "That name sounds familiar to me, too. I know I saw it somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Dean, and we left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

We had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were we going to find out what the dog was guarding? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_, or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_, and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione and I took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron and Dean strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section.

"What are you looking for, boy?" Madam Pince, the librarian, suddenly asked Harry.

"Nothing," he said unconvincingly.

Madam Pince brandished a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on - out!"

Harry left the library. We'd already agreed we'd better not ask Madam Pince where we could find Flamel. I was sure she'd be able to tell us, but we couldn't risk anyone hearing what we were up to.

We kept trying to find things, but coming up blank. We'd been looking for two weeks, after all, but as we only had odd moments between lessons, it wasn't surprising we'd found nothing. What we really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down our necks.

Five minutes later, we exited the library and joined Harry.

"Well?" he asked.

"Nothing," I told him.

We went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while we're away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send us an owl if you find anything."

"And you three could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

"My dad is a computer engineer and my mum is a professor at Cambridge University," I told him, "so yeah, it'd be okay."

"My dad is actually Jonathan's dad's boss," said Dean, "and my mum is a doctor."

"Excuse me," said a soft voice from behind us. It was Snape.

"Come with me, Alderton," he said.

"But –" said Ron.

"It's fine," I told him and walked away with Snape. He led me to his office, a dark room full of pickled things next to the Potions classroom.

"Sit," he said. I sat.

"You must be wondering why I brought you here," he said. "This is about the incidents with Mr. Malfoy during the Potions lesson this morning."

"It's fine, sir," I said. "It doesn't really bother me."

"Do you know what that word he said to you means?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor," I said. "It's a racial slur to describe Muggle-borns. It's really fine – it doesn't bother me. Don't take too much trouble, sir."

"I'll decide what trouble is," he said shortly. "All I'm saying is that you should know that I see things like that in a very negative light, and you should report them. Professor McGonagall has been told about this. You may go."

I went out and back to lunch.

"What was that about?" asked Ron once I'd gotten back.

"He just wanted to say that he won't tolerate usage of the M-word," I said.

"That's out of character," Dean noted.

"That's what I thought, too," I said.

On the third Monday of December, Dean, Hermione, and I left the castle after a quick breakfast, were told that we were only to do magic next to our family and closest friends, and were carried in large carriages carried by white horses to Hogsmeade Station, where we boarded the Hogwarts Express. We spent the ride playing Dean's cards and a set of wizard chess Fred and George had lent us. As soon as I passed through the gate from Platform 9¾ to the Muggle world, I was greeted by something small and brown-haired tackling me, yelling "JONATHAN!", and nearly squeezing the life out of me.

"Hey, Mary," I said, ruffling her hair. "How've you been? Had a nice, quiet three months without me? How's year three treating you?"

"It's been boring without you," she whined as we walked towards our parents and Taylor. "What am I supposed to do after school?"

"Play with Taylor?" suggested Hermione.

"I can't beat Taylor at chess all the time because she can't play," she complained.

"Teach her, then," said Dean.

"But she has no patience to learn!"

"That's Taylor," I said fondly. "How's year three treating you?"

"Lessons are boring and I want to sleep at school," she said.

"It would help if you didn't go to sleep at midnight and wake up at six every morning," I informed her, getting a punch in the arm for my effort.

When we had almost reached my parents, something jumped at me, nearly knocking me backwards into Hermione.

"Whoa, Taylor!" I said, putting her down. "I see you've been perfecting your jump-hug!"

"Yes," she said, nodding and smiling. "You've been gone forever!"

"Forever?" I asked. "Has it really been that long? Wow, does time fly."

Taylor laughed and we got over to my parents. My mum hugged me and said, "We've missed you."

"Me too," I said. "Hi, Dad."

"How've you been?" he asked, hugging me as I got out of my mum's arms.

"Great," I said. "I'll tell you all about it on the way home."

"Did you get to all your classes on time?" asked Dad.

"Just barely," said Hermione.

"How do you ever wake him up in the morning?" asked Dean.

"Turn the lights on and off," suggested Mary.

"We don't have light switches," Dean informed her.

Once we got into the car, we told my parents, Mary, and Taylor all about our term at Hogwarts. We told them about Harry, Ron, and Neville, about the troll, and finally we got to the million pound question.

"… and then Hagrid said that it only concerned Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel," I finished.

"Have any of you heard of him?" asked Dean.

"Hasn't Hermione?" asked Mary.

"Surprisingly, no," I said. "Shocking, isn't it?"

Hermione glared at me. "We searched the entire Hogwarts library –"

"Not the whole thing," I said. "We only researched modern wizards."

"That name does sound familiar," said Dad. "Try looking for French wizards."

"Well, we did only research British wizards," I said. "It's worth a try. And maybe I can find him in some Muggle encyclopedia."

After dropping off Hermione and Dean, we came home, had dinner (as good as the Hogwarts food was, it was nothing on a good home-made meal), and Mary and Mum helped me unpack my trunk. After we were done, I went straight to bed. The next morning, Mary woke me up again at eight o'clock because Steve had come to see us. Hermione and Dean were there, too. I quickly got dressed, ate breakfast, and came to greet them.

"Took you that long to wake up?" asked Steve.

"I'm not a morning person like you, Steve," I said.

"Tell me about it," said Dean. "I'm the one who had to wake you up every morning!"

"Not a simple feat, I see," Steve teased.

"But how the bloody hell do you manage to wake up so bloody early?" I asked him. "I could never wake up before eleven if nobody wakes me up."

"Some people are morning people," he said. "Anyway, how was your term?"

We told him all about it.

"You sure you didn't make up the part about the buffalo?" he asked.

"I can prove it," I said, taking out my wand and pointing it at him. "_Wingardium_ –"

"There's really no need," he said quickly. "I believe you."

"I thought so," I smirked, putting my wand back in my pocket. "Anyway, there's this Nicolas Flamel person that we're trying to find out about."

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, Malfoy challenged Harry and me to a duel after we got into the Quidditch team, but he tricked us and told the caretaker, Mr. Filch – you wouldn't want to run into him in the middle of the night – that we'd be out of bed and we had to run," I said. "We got into a corridor that was locked to get away from Filch, but there was a three-headed dog there."

"A three-headed dog?" he asked. "Like the one that guards hell in Greek mythology?"

"Cerberus doesn't guard hell," said Hermione. "He guards the underworld."

"Underworld, hell, same thing," said Steve. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"The three-headed dog was guarding something," I said. "We asked Hagrid what it was, and he said it involved the headmaster Dumbledore and some bloke named Nicolas Flamel."

"Nicolas Flamel…" said Steve. "That's the name of the street of the hotel we stayed in in Paris this summer – Rue Nicolas Flamel."

"Was there anything there about this Flamel person?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, he was a fourteenth-century alchemist," he said. "He was a wizard, then?"

"Maybe," said Dean. "Do wizards live that long?"

"They do live longer than non-magical people, according to _The Muggle's Guide to the Wizarding World_," I said, "but the average life expectancy of a wizard is two hundred years. We're at the end of the twentieth century – that's over six hundred years since Nicolas Flamel was alive."

"Maybe it's Nicolas Flamel XVI or something," said Steve. "Worth a check. If he was famous in our world then maybe an encyclopedia would tell you more. You can also try one of your wizard encyclopedias."

"We looked through them," said Hermione. "We couldn't find anything."

"Actually," I told her, "we only looked in an encyclopedia of modern wizards. If this Flamel bloke is the same one Steve's hotel's street is named after, he wouldn't exactly be modern, would he? I suggest we go to the library here and check an encyclopedia. I know there might not be anything about what he did as a wizard, but we should find out everything we can about him."

"Good idea," said Dean. We went to the library, asked to see an encyclopedia, and searched for Flamel. We found it and I read:

"'_Flamel, Nicolas, c. 1330-1418, reputed French alchemist and scrivener to the university of Paris, was born in Paris or Pontoise about 1330, and died in Paris in 1418, bequeathing the bulk of his property to the church of Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie, where he was buried. During his life he contributed freely to charitable and religious purposes from the considerable wealth he amassed either by the practice of his craft, or, as some surmise without definite proof, by fortunate speculation or money lending, or, as legend has it, by alchemy. According to a document purporting to be written by himself in 1413 (printed in Waite's _Lives of the Alchemystical Philosophers_, London 1888), there fell into his hands in 1357, at the cost of two florins, a book on alchemy by Abraham the Jew, which taught in plain words the transmutation of metals. It did not, however, explain the _materia prima_, but merely figured or depicted it, and for more than 20 years Flamel strove in vain to find out the secret. Then, returning from a journey to Spain, he fell in with a Christian Jew, named Canches, who gave him the explanation, and after three more years' work he succeeded in preparing the _material prima_, thus being enabled in 1382 to transmute mercury into both silver and gold. But this fantastic story was disposed of by the facts, derived from parish records, set forth in Vilain's _Essai sur l'histoire de Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie_, 1758, and his _Histoire critique de Nicolas Flamel et de Pernelle sa femme, recueillie d'actes anciens qui justifient l'origine et la médiocrité de leur fortune contre lese imputations des alchimistes_, 1761._"

"Blimey, that's a bloody mouthful," said Steve.

"Tell me about it - I'm the one who had to try and pronounce it in French," I said.

"Read on," said Hermione.

"_A book on alchemy in the Paris Bibliothèque, _Le Trésor de philosophie_, professing to be written and illuminated by Flamel with his own hand, is of very doubtful authenticity, and other treatises bearing his name, such as the _Sommaire philosophique de Nicolas Flamel_, published in 1561 in a collection of alchemist treatises entitiled _Transformation métallique_, are certainly spurious_."

"That's it?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," I said. "It's not much, but it does give us a clue – something about metallic transmutation and alchemy. I know that any elemental transmutation wasn't possible until the 1910s and that was what enabled scientific alchemy."

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since we'd gotten back the marks for our very first piece of homework.

"Follow me!" she said and walked as quickly as she could inside a library. As soon as we were out, she broke into a sprint and headed towards her house. We ran after her.

"Hermione, what – " Steve started.

"Just keep up!" yelled Hermione as she took out the key to her house and opened the door. "Wait here," she told us. She ran to her room and came back with an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she said excitedly. "I got this out of the Hogwarts library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Steve, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself. At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it! Nicolas Flamel," she said excitedly, "is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

I gasped. "The Philosopher's Stone? But isn't that just a myth?"

"We thought goblins were a myth too before we discovered the Wizarding world," Dean reminded me. "But what's the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Don't you ever read?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Read that."

Steve took the book and read aloud: "_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

"_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currenty in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday recently, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._"

"See?" said Hermione. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"Blimey!" said Dean. "A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!"

"No wonder someone is wants it!" said Steve. "Anyone would want it."

"And I was right – he isn't exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?" I said.

"We have to tell Harry and Ron about this," said Hermione.

"Right," I said. "To my house it is, then."

"To your house?" asked Steve as we exited Hermione's house. "Can't we send it from here?"

"We can't use the normal post," I explained as we walked towards my house. "They'd have a job finding Hogwarts."

"Then how are you planning on sending it?" asked Steve.

"By owl," I said. "That's how wizards send things. My owl, Athena, can find anyone anywhere."

"Smart owl," said Steve, impressed. "So that's how you've been getting our letters?"

"Yeah," I said. It wasn't a long walk from Hermione's house to mine, as she lived just down the street. I opened the door, offered everyone some drinks, and went upstairs to my room to get a pen and paper. I came down and we went over to the sitting room.

_Dear Harry and Ron_, I wrote.

_It turns out Nicolas Flamel was also famous in the Muggle world. Our friend Steve stayed in Paris this summer and the name of the street he stayed in was Rue Nicolas Flamel – we told him about the whole thing. Anyway, Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone – something that turns base metals into gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which allows you to live as long as you want. He's 665. We think that's what Fluffy's guarding._

_Hope you're having a nice holiday!_

_Jonathan, Hermione, and Dean_

I read the letter out aloud and once they had all approved, I went upstairs and gave it to Athena. I let her drink and gave her a few owl treats and she flew off.

We spent the rest of the day showing Steve, Mary, Taylor, and my parents some of the magic we learned at Hogwarts and playing flying catch (this time it was Hermione with a _Wingardium leviosa_ spell against Dean, Mary, Steve, and me).

The next day was very snowy, and Mary, Steve, Dean, and I had a snowball fight (Mary and I versus Dean and Steve) while Hermione watched. Then we built a snowman (we didn't have a carrot, but Mary found a good branch for us to use) and made some snow angels. We finished with a nice steaming mug of hot cocoa at my house.

Two days before Christmas, our entire class got together and we had a huge snowball fight (my team won) and a snowman contest (we had to pair up – I was with Dean – and Steve and Hermione judged. Dean and I got second place). When I got home, my parents told me that my grandparents (Dad's parents) would be coming over from London for Christmas.

At 6:00 PM, our house was ready for Christmas – a Christmas tree was in the corner of the sitting room and the house was decorated in red and green. The doorbell rang.

"It's Grandma and Granddad!" yelled Taylor and she, Mary, and I ran to open the door and sure enough, my grandparents were there.

"Hello, hello!" said Grandma, pulling each one of us into a hug, followed by Granddad. "How are you all? You've grown so much – especially you, Jonathan!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot," I told her, smiling. "I'm great – you wouldn't believe what happened at school."

"I can't wait to hear about it," she said.

We had a Christmas Eve dinner, which was great due to the combination of Mum's and Grandma's cooking, and I told Grandma and Granddad all about my term at Hogwarts.

"And it turns out that Nicolas Flamel did make that Philosopher's Stone thing," I said, "and someone – Harry and Ron think it's our Potions teacher, Professor Snape – is after it."

"Why would they think that?" asked Granddad.

"He tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween, when everyone was distracted. Maybe it's just a coincidence, and that's what I told them, but they don't like Snape, to say an understatement, and he did try to throw Harry off his broom," I said.

"Why'd he do that?" asked Mary, who hadn't heard this part.

"We don't know," I said. "The only person who could be after Harry is Lord Voldemort, whom he defeated as a baby, but nobody knows if he's alive or not."

"What's the problem?" she asked. "Either he's alive or he's not!"

"The problem is," I explained, "that nobody found a body. He disappeared after that night. Most people think he's dead, but nobody's sure."

"But then nobody knows Hitler died, do they?" said Mary. "Nobody's ever found a body."

"Not a body," I said. "After Hitler committed suicide, his body was cremated. Doctors came into his bunker, conducted DNA scans on the ashes, and found that the ash was actually Hitler's cremated body. Served him right," I added.

"Didn't they find any of Voldemort's ash, then?" she asked.

"No," I said. "That's why nobody is sure. People are still afraid to say his name, as if he'd somehow come back if they did."

"That's stupid," scoffed Mary. "It's just a name."

"I know," I said. "That's what I said when I found this out."

"And on that cheerful note," said my mum, "we're moving on to desserts. Who wants pudding?"

We had desserts, which were excellent, and then went to bed. I set an alarm clock to 6:00 (Christmas was the only day of the year I woke early – for presents) and when I woke up, I quietly went to Taylor's room, which was right next to mine, and woke her up. We'd planned that I'd wake her up and then we'd both wake up Mary. We went to Mary's room and yanked the blanket off her.

"Give that back," she muttered in her sleep.

"No," I said.

"Oh, all right," she muttered, still sleeping. "You'd better take this, too," she muttered, giving me her pillow (all while sleeping). I threw it back at her.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" said Taylor, hitting her. She rolled over.

"It's fine, Taylor," I said. "I suppose I'll take that bike Mary asked for…"

"And I'll take the new basketball," said Taylor, catching on.

"I'll take the basket to go along," I continued.

"And I'll take her fridge!" she said. Mary woke up.

"A fridge?" said Mary. "I didn't even ask for a fridge! Why would I ask for a fridge?"

"So?" she shrugged. "I can still take it!"

"No, you can't," I said to her, "because she probably didn't get a fridge. Come on!"

We went downstairs and found our presents under the Christmas tree. I had gotten a melodica – a musical instrument that was a bit like a flute with a keyboard – from Dean, books from Hermione, my parents, grandparents, and other relatives, several card packs from my friends in Cambridge, a load of Bertie Bott's Beans from Ron and chocolate frogs from Harry, and a lifetime supply of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum from Hagrid and Licorice Wands form Neville. Mary had indeed gotten the bike, basketball, and basket she had asked for, but she hadn't gotten a fridge. Taylor had gotten everything she had asked for, too. The rest of the day was spent in another snowball fight (Mary and I versus Dean and Steve – Mary and I won) while Hermione sat by the side and read one of the books I had given her for Christmas. We then built a snowman (this time Mary borrowed one of my used pens and used it as a nose) and had some excellent hot cocoa, made by my grandmum.

On Boxing Day, we left for a week in Mexico, and I widened my Spanish vocabulary. It was funny – everyone around Cancún spoke English very well, but in Mexico City nobody spoke English. At some point I gave up my broken record act (_inglés por favor_) and tried to understand the Spanish. I thought I did quite well, and at least the tour guides spoke English. Aside from its fascinating non-magical history, Mexico also had a very interesting magical history – an entire Wizarding civilization had existed in the Americas, quite apart from the Afro-Eurasian civilizations – until a Siberian wizard had discovered Alaska in the 12th century. Since then, the cultures had merged and agreed not to reveal the existence of the other continent to the local Muggles – an agreement that had been quite well kept, until 1492. One of Christopher Columbus's navigators was a rogue Portuguese wizard who had purposely steered Columbus's ships towards what was now as the Dominican Republic, and the rest was history.

_A/N: I'm trying to parallel the book chapters as closely as possible, hence the split. Sorry for the long delay – I got a particularly bad case of writer's block a couple of weeks ago. Hope this chapter was okay! And I know Snape's behavior seems OOC, and I totally called that out through Dean. Allow me to explain. Remember Snape's Worst Memory? Well, I figured that since that happened, he wouldn't tolerate any use of the word "Mudblood"._

_**Review or everybody will forget English and you'll sound like a broken record.**_


	13. Snape's Game (I Fight Malfoy's Gorillas)

_A/N: *looking through some of his old stuff* Something from the eighth grade… let me see what it is. If it doesn't remind me too strongly of what I went through, I might not destroy it. Let's see… some jokes… a few ways to tell if someone is from that school… ooh, a quiz! Let's see if I remember something… okay, a few questions about the geography of the school, I should remember something about that, and – WHAT THE HELL?_

_Look at this – LOOK AT THIS!_

_"5. Who did this school challenge most this year?_

_A) The tenth graders in the History final  
B) The Americans who came to paint the walls  
C) Y from the eighth grade_

**_ANSWER KEY_**_: 5. C"_

**_MY NAME HAPPENS TO BEGIN WITH A Y. AND I HAPPEN TO HAVE BEEN IN THE EIGHTH GRADE THAT YEAR. AND THAT SCHOOL HAPPENS TO HAVE CHALLENGED ME. FDSJGPONTRSDLKJGNVCXBNVCXNGFNHRES67 VDNTZAnreoiynuto8rwq 9y oiuPIUYNU69 6NY Q43NMJYU6TREWQNVTOIUNRWQ60NYEIUGTVRNHKJfdsHKJajdsf lkajdsrfjesal gdsak gskj Hkj Hkj hqkj h kj hdq hgkjakjg hg hkjad kj KJREW H KJ HDKJA HTKJ HRKJTA HKJ HS JSHYRKJE HKJ hkj hr _**_*explodes, turning the entire Middle East into a nuclear wasteland which is subsequently settled by Martians*_

**yoneld's sister**: *comes in* What the heck just happened? I heard an explosion, and - *sees the Martians* Cool, aliens exist!

**Random Martian**: Pourquoi est le Moyen-Orient un terre atomique en friche? Ne vous m'eprenez pas, c'est magnifique, mais pourqoui?

**yoneld's sister**: Darn, I need my brother for this, he speaks French… oh, right. _Medium orientem reparo_!

**Middle East**: *goes right back to how it was – Martian-free, Syria and Egypt in civil wars, Lebanon and Yemen in a general mess as per usual, Jordan about to join the party, the Gulf states except Yemen rich as always, Iran trying to get nuclear weapons and threatening Israel in the process, Turkey having an increasingly anti-Semitic prime minister, Israel having nothing to do with any of this, and yoneld about to explode*

**yoneld's sister**: *to yoneld* What just happened?

**yoneld**: *incoherently* LOOK AT THIS! **LOOK AT THIS!** *shoves Question #5 in her face*

**yoneld's sister**: *LOOKS AT THIS* Why, those complete jerks! You know what we should do?

**yoneld**: **EXPLODE!**

**yoneld's sister**: No, this! *destroys the entire thing*

**yoneld**: *snaps out of his rage* Oh, that's better.

_So yeah, you get the general idea. They put me through hell and then laughed about it. There are simply no words to describe this, so I'm moving on._

_I can't believe I'm in high school! (In Israel, high school starts in the tenth grade, not the ninth.) It's going pretty well so far, and I have the best. Class. Ever. Anyway, there's this place in our school called "Seniors' Pavilion," which the freshmen and sophomores are supposedly not allowed to enter. There was even a show about it in the opening ceremony in the school year – freshmen and sophomores enter the Pavilion, and the seniors ask them what they're doing there. The answer was a Monopoly game that everyone was allowed to participate in – freshmen, sophomores, and seniors. Well, I'm pretty sure they're lying, because I just passed through the Pavilion on my way to class this morning, and I'm a freshman. Iunno, maybe this only applies during school hours (I get there at 7:30, school starts at 8:00, and the next bus arrives only at 8:15). Either way, Imma try going in there tomorrow. Also, according to my best friend I'm 75% Ravenclaw, 15% Gryffindor, and 10% Hufflepuff. Well, I might be able to attribute my intelligence to the fact that I'm Jewish (it's nothing racist – Jews are just smarter because we have the Gemara, which greatly sharpens the mind. It's a book of Jewish law with all the scholarly arguments over the interpretations), and while 0.2% of the world's population is Jewish, 20% of Nobel Prize laureates are Jewish. That means that if you take 500 people – any people – most likely only one of them will be Jewish, but if all 500 people are Nobel Prize laureates, a hundred of them will probably be Jewish. We're just smart that way._

_In completely unrelated news, I just started wearing glasses and it's great. I mean, I knew my vision was bad, but I didn't think it was that bad, and then I put them on for the first time and everything was just so clear. Actually, my vision has been that way since the beginning of last year and I had to be checked for a bunch of things that could make me think my vision's going bad._

_Well, I think I talked enough about my old school and the Seniors' Pavilion and my Hogwarts House distribution and Jews being smart and my new glasses. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer_: Do I really need to say it? If I owned Harry Potter, Jonathan would be canon.

When we had gotten back from Mexico, it was time for me to go to Hogwarts. Term was to start the next day. During the train ride (in which we shared a compartment with Neville and Seamus), we played a card game called Mao (it worked sort of like UNO with shapes substituted for colors, except it had a lot of rules that only I had managed to completely understand – and every time someone won, he/she added a rule) and some more wizard chess.

When we got to the common room, we were greeted by Harry and Ron.

"How were your holidays?" I asked as we sat down by the fire.

"Very interesting," said Ron.

"Understatement," said Harry.

"Knowing you, it must have been," I said. "So what happened?"

"I got an Invisibility Cloak for Christmas," said Harry.

"Wicked," I grinned.

"The first night after I got it," he continued, "I snuck out the Tower – just wanted to check out the school at night –"

"You were out of bed? What if Filch had caught you?" said Hermione, horrified.

"He wouldn't have," I told her, "because Harry was invisible."

"He still could've bumped into you!" she said.

"What are the odds of that?" I said, rolling my eyes. "You need to lay off a bit."

"So anyway," said Harry, "I found this mirror in a deserted classroom. But it wasn't just any mirror – it shows you your greatest desire. I saw my parents in it."

"Oh…" I didn't know what to say. I had grown up with a loving family and had a completely normal life. Harry, on the other hand, was an orphan and had lived with an abusive family and presumably no friends – I was sure his cousin had seen to that.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "So the next night, I brought Ron along…"

"And I saw myself as Head Boy and Quidditch Champion," he said excitedly.

"Cool," I said. Ron must have wanted to be special in his own way among his many siblings.

"So the next night," Harry continued, "I came back… and I saw Dumbledore."

Hermione gasped. "Did you get in trouble?"

"No," he said. "He just explained to me how the mirror works and told me that he's moving it somewhere else."

After a long silence, Hermione said softly, "I think it's for the best. You shouldn't dwell on it too much."

"She's right, mate," I told him. "Just seeing them without being able to talk to them or anything – that'll just make you miss them more."

During the second week of January, Quidditch practices had resumed. Wood was working us harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. Fred and George complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry and I were on Wood's side. If we won our next match, against Hufflepuff, we would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. As tiring as practice was, I was also determined for Gryffindor to win. I worked the best I could, switching positions very often. Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave us a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with Fred and George, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.

"He's fairer than he seems," I spoke up, remembering what he had said to me before the break.

"And it's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

At this, Harry's face darkened considerably. The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and I headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something we all thought was very good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him and I sat between Hermione and Dean, "I need to concen -" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry and I told Ron, Hermione, and Dean about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Dean suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

"I can't," said Harry. "If I back out, that'll hurt Gryffindor's chances by a lot."

"What am I, chopped liver?" I asked.

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was beyond me, because his legs had been stuck together with what I recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione and me. Hermione leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with us.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" I urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head. "I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

"What?" I said, baffled. "Of course you're brave enough! The hat knows what it's saying! And you need to ignore Malfoy. He's just not worth it."

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry took the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever-"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at us.

"So that's where he was familiar to me from!" he whispered. "Listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

"So that's what Dumbledore has to do with the whole thing!" said Dean. "He's helping guard it for Flamel!"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry, Ron, Dean, and I were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher's Stone if they had one. After Ron said that he'd buy his own Quidditch team, Harry told us that he was going to play. "If I don't," he said, "all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

When we wished Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon we were wondering whether we'd ever see him alive again. We found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why we looked so grim and worried, or why we had brought our wands to the match. We had been practicing the Leg-Locker Curse, intending to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's _Locomotor mortis_," Hermione muttered to all of us.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

And then we saw Dumbledore. He had come to the match – I felt a wave of relief wash through me. Harry was safe. Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," said Ron. "Look - they're off - _Ouch_!"

I looked around and saw Malfoy standing behind Ron.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there." Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George had hit a Bludger at him. I watched Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

"Then how exactly did I get on the team?" I asked scathingly. "There's nothing anyone should feel sorry for me about."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, ignoring me, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something," Malfoy continued.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy," said Ron menacingly, "one more word –"

"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry -"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione, Dean, and I stood up to watch as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Before anyone knew it, Ron was on top of Malfoy, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help. I fought off Crabbe and Goyle, who were trying to hit Neville and Ron. We managed to hold our own, and then -

"Ron! Jonathan!" screamed Hermione. "Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

We all rushed down to the field and lifted Harry on top of our shoulders.

"You've done it, Harry!" I shouted. "Wow, that must have been one of the shortest Quidditch games in history!"

An hour later, Harry left for the locker room as Dean, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and I went back up to the castle with the rest of the Gryffindors for a party. He had caught up to us when we were almost in the common room.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville and Jonathan took on Crabbe and Goyle - talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this..."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told us that he'd seen Snape and Quirrell talk in the forest.

"So we were right," he said, "it is the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus' - I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

"And on that optimistic note," I said dryly, "we go into the party."

_A/N: This chapter was short in the book too, so don't complain._

**_Review or you will get a black eye._**


	14. Norbert (Hagrid Gets A Dragon)

_A/N: The only bad thing about wearing glasses is that they have to be cleaned. A lot. It's annoying. Siriusly, I've stopped counting how many times I took off my glasses to clean them. But other than that, it's great to be able to see properly. Anyway, one of my eighth-grade classmates transferred to my school, and while I understand why he would do that – my school is infinitely more awesome than that one – that might not be so great for me. Luckily, we're not in the same class, so I shouldn't run into him too often. He was one of the guys who'd sometimes be nice to me and sometimes try to kill me – right now he's in the nice phase, which I hope will last until I'm out of high school – but knowing my luck, that won't happen. Sigh…_

_Disclaimer_: What do I look like, JKR?

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than I'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet. Every time we passed the third-floor corridor, we'd press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron and I had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter. Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and colorcoding all her notes and nagging the rest of us (except me – she had given up on me long ago).

"Hermione, the exams are ages away," said Dean one afternoon.

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year?" she said incredulously.

"I don't see Jonathan studying so hard," he grumbled.

"Well, that's Jonathan," Hermione rolled her eyes. "He couldn't be bothered to study. My point is, they're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me..."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays – in which we weren't allowed to go home – weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. We all spent a lot of time in the library, doing our homework and studying (Hermione and I had finished our homework long ago and I knew all the material, so it was really Hermione and me helping the others finish their homework and helping them study).

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day we'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

"Here, let me help," I said, bringing his parchment over to me and looking at it. It was Ron's uncompleted essay about healing plants. The written portion ended with _One more useful healing plant is dittany, which_

"Right," I said. "So what do you remember about dittany?"

"It's some sort of healing plant…" he said. "Its essence is good for something, I don't know what…"

Ron and I talked about the properties of dittany and he wrote everything down. When he had finished, I went over his essay, correcting a few things here and there, until I heard Dean say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got my interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively, getting up. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St -"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy -"

"Shut up!" I hissed. "Not here!"

"Listen," said Hagrid, "come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh -"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" I asked.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_; _From Egg to_

_Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," I said.

"Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks," said Ron. "The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth is Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

When we knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, I was surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let us in, and then shut the door quickly behind us.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made us tea and offered us stoat sandwiches, which we politely refused.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts – I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all?"

"Well, we worked out that that was what you took out of that vault on Harry's birthday," I said, "and we knew the same vault was broken into, so yeah."

"And how d'yeh even know abou' Fluffy?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and I could tell he was smiling.

"We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. I beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout - Professor Flitwick - Professor McGonagall -" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell - an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Harry and Ron said in unison.

"Yeah - yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

I knew we were all thinking the same thing. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything - except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the rest of us. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. I noticed him glance at the fire and looked at it, too.

"Hagrid - what's that?" asked Harry.

In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg. I had never seen any eggs like these in my life and Hagrid had been reading about dragons, which must have meant that -

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book

from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library - _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ - it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here - how ter recognize diff'rent eggs - what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

So now we had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening we worked on all the extra homework we were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry, Ron, and Dean, too. It was driving them nuts. Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. Harry showed us the note: _It's hatching_.

Ron, Dean, and I wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" I said.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? I didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and I argued with Hermione all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the rest of us during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of our lesson, the five of us dropped our trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it. We all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?" I said, looking through – and I saw exactly what the matter was. Malfoy was looking through the window.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

I didn't like the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week. We spent most of our free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

We looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered to us.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I - I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"He knows that," I rolled my eyes. "He's probably talking about one of your brothers."

"Yeah," said Harry, "your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that we could send -an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Harry, Dean, and me sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The five of us put our heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie_

We looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the rest of us agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. We weren't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, there was no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

We rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me - I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me - I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

"A dog, Ron?" I said in disbelief. "Really? You should've told her it was the Venomous Tentacula. Anyway, he would've done that anyway. He's just a git like that."

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no - I've just remembered - Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

None of us got a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made us leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione, Dean, and me. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

We found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when we went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage - nothin' I can't handle."

When we told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot - jus' playin' - he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Hermione, Dean, and I walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

I would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if I hadn't been so worried about what Harry and I had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and we were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because we'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of our way in the entrance hall, where we'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to me as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and I covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it ourselves. "Mummy will never forget you!"

I wasn't sure how we managed to get the crate back into the castle. Midnight ticked nearer as we heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another - the shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as we reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of us made us almost drop the crate. Forgetting that I was already invisible, I shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared. Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you -"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming - he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until we'd stepped out into the cold night air did we throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again.

"Malfoy's got detention!" I said happily. "And better, he got it for trying to get us in detention for actually breaking the rules!"

Chuckling about Malfoy, we waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and me the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. We all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and I shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going... going... gone.

We slipped back down the spiral staircase, a huge load off our shoulders (literally), now that Norbert was off us. No more dragon - Malfoy in detention - what could possibly go wrong?

Of course, knowing my luck, everything had to go wrong. As we stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

We'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

_A/N: That is completely typical of my luck and it totally would've happened to me. Well, only three more chapters to go! I shall see you in the next one, then._

_**Review or Norbert will set you on fire.**_


	15. The Forbidden Forest (Mars Is Bright)

_A/N: HOLY CRAP 333 VIEWS ONLY IN AUGUST FOR THIS THING. AND IT'S ONLY BEEN SEPTEMBER FOR NINETEEN HOURS AND I'VE ALREADY GOT 3 VIEWS FOR THIS THING AND 4 FOR EVERYTHING. AND 790 VIEWS IN AUGUST FOR EVERYTHING I EVER WROTE EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. HOW DO SO MANY PEOPLE SEE THESE THINGS WHAT IS THIS MAGIC._

**yoneld's sister**: You know, some people think the views are all yours. Not me, I know a lot of other people saw your things.

**yoneld**: That's because they did. When have I ever been to Saudi Arabia? Or the United Arab Emirates? Or Tunisia? Or Poland? Or the Philippines? Or India? Or Russia? Or Iceland? Or Argentina? Or…

**yoneld's sister**: OKAY I GET IT. And anyway, I said I know other people saw these things, why are you telling me something that I know?

**yoneld**: … I have to rant.

**yoneld's sister**: Did you get views from Thailand?

**yoneld**: … no.

**yoneld's sister**: Cyprus?

**yoneld**: … no. And Word, kindly stop capitalizing my username. It's annoying. Even more than having to clean my glasses all the time.

**yoneld's sister**: You know, you just have to get used to that. I know it's annoying to clean them all the time – you get used to it. *cleans her own glasses*

**yoneld**: *significant glance*

**yoneld's sister**: Oh come on, I haven't cleaned them for over five hours!

**yoneld**: HOW THE HECK DO YOU DO THAT DO YOU KNOW HOW OFTEN THEY GET DIRTY YOU WENT FIVE HOURS WITHOUT CLEANING YOUR GLASSES THAT'S JUST AMAZING HOW - *dies*

**yoneld's sister**: *shocks him back to life* Well, I got used to it! You've only had them for one day, I've had them for a couple of months now!

**yoneld**: Speaking of which, they are quite dirty… *takes off his glasses to clean them*

**yoneld's sister**: Let me see that...

**yoneld**: *lets her see that*

**yoneld's sister**: *gives his glasses a thorough cleaning* There you go. Although they're not that dirty…

**yoneld**: *puts them back on* Ah, that's better. And yes, they were very dirty. I couldn't see a thing.

**yoneld's sister**: *snorts* Yeah, right.

**yoneld**: SHUT UP. YOU'RE USED TO IT. I'M NOT.

_Anyway, yeah, my sister is back. You saw her in Chapter 13 when she destroyed that thing from my eighth-grade school. No, I'm fine, why do you ask? *eye twitch*_

**yoneld's sister**: Are you about to turn the Middle East into a Martian-inhabited nuclear wasteland again?

**yoneld**: No, I'm - *turns the Middle East into a Martian-inhabited nuclear wasteland again*

**yoneld's sister**: Sigh… _Medium orientem reparo_.

**Middle East**: *still in civil wars, except Israel*

**yoneld's sister**: So what did those Martians say back in Chapter 13 anyway?

**yoneld**: Oh… they said, "Why is the Middle East a nuclear wasteland? Don't get me wrong, it's great, but why?"

_Okay, Sis, we've chatted enough._

_Disclaimer_: For the last time, I AM NOT JOANNE ROWLING. Oh wait, I have two more chapters after this one…

Things couldn't have been worse. Filch took us down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where we sat and waited without saying a word to each other. I kept trying to think of excuses, but I couldn't find any. Unless there was a game that involved carrying heavy dragons in the middle of the night at Hogwarts and Gryffindor desperately needed a dragon carrier, we were doomed. How could we have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for our being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and we might as well be packing their bags already.

Just my luck – things got worse. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw us. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag -"

Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of us.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

None of us had anything to say.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

I looked at Neville and shook my head, indicating that that wasn't our intention. Poor Neville - I knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Mr. Alderton, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions - yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous - and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped. I stepped on his foot and whispered to him not to make things worse. Not that they weren't bad enough - we lost the lead Harry had won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

I stared at her in horror.

"You can't -" Harry started.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, we'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Only I could mess up that bad. How could we ever make up for this?

I didn't sleep all night. I could hear Neville sobbing into his pillow for what seemed like hours. I couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. I knew Neville and Harry, like myself, were dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what we'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could we suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, the hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years. So now everyone hated Harry, Neville, and me. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs did, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Harry definitely had it the worst - everywhere he went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"

Only Ron, Hermione, and Dean stood by us.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks," said Ron. "Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well - no," Ron admitted.

"Just win another Quidditch match," I said. "People have a very short memory when it comes to these things."

But he did not seem to be in the mood to win another Quidditch match. In fact, he went to Wood the first practice we had after the incident and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

"That's what I told him," I said, but nobody listened. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry or me during practice, and if they had to speak about us, they called us "the Seeker" and "the reserve."

Neville and I didn't have as bad a time as Harry, because we weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to us, either. I figured it wasn't worth harping on – if they weren't going to speak to us, let them. I barely even knew any of them. I had Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dean, and that was enough.

The exams were getting steadily closer. We kept to ourselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions...

About a week before the exams were due to start, Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy and I was testing Dean on Potions when Harry burst into the library, sitting down at the table.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I just heard Quirrell – he was talking to someone, he sounded like that someone was threatening him – I'm pretty sure it was about the stone," he said.

"Who was there?" I asked.

"No one," he said. "Just Quirrell. His turban was in a bit of a mess, though."

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell -"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"And Snape wasn't even there," I said.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, ignoring me and looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

"Go to Dumbledore," said Hermione quickly. "That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor - who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

"And Snape wasn't even there just now," I reminded him, "which brings back the option that Snape is trying to protect the stone. Maybe he was asking Quirrell about his protection, so he could get through to check on it. I wonder what's in Quirell's turban, though…"

"What's the turban got to do with anything?" asked Dean.

"Harry said it looked messed up," I said. "And we know there's something suspicious about that turban."

"Well, if we just do a bit of poking around -" said Ron.

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Neville, and me at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_Professor McGonagall_

I'd forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost, but I felt we deserved what we'd got.

At eleven o'clock that night, we said good-bye to Ron, Hermione, and Dean in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there - and so was Malfoy. I had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading us outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at us. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

We marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. I wondered what our punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing us into darkness. Ahead, I could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then we heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

I felt a surge of relief; if we were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. My relief must have showed, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boys - it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night – there're all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard."

"There are only werewolves on the full moon," I said, "which tonight isn't."

"There are still other things," said Malfoy, unconvinced. "And what would you know about werewolves, Mudblood?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" said Harry.

"This isn't the time now!" I said.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them things before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Jonathan?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and I was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yehve got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do," he said. "I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this –"

"He'd tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led us to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted our hair as we looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry, an' Jonathan'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now - that's it - an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh - so, be careful - let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it we reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hagrid, and I took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right.

We walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves. I saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.

"Werewolves are only in the full moon," I reminded him.

"And they're not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

We walked past a mossy tree stump. I could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter – GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry and me and hoisted us off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of us listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.

"How many times do I have to tell you," I said exasperatedly, "werewolves are only in the full moon!"

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

We walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself - I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came a centaur with red hair and beard and a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and my jaws dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an' Jonathan Alderton, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," I said.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm -"

"A bit," I said.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt - you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured - would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Harry and I followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" I asked.

"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you?" I asked.

"Nah," said Hagrid. "If yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns - never heard anythin' like it before."

We walked on through the dense, dark trees. I kept looking over my shoulder. I had the nasty feeling we were being watched. I was very glad we had Hagrid and his crossbow with us. We had just passed a bend in the path when I saw red sparks.

"Hagrid!" I said, pointing at the red sparks. "Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

We heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until we couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"Let's hope nothing's got them," I whispered.

"I don't care if it has Malfoy, but if something's got Neville... it's our fault he's here in the first place," said Harry.

The minutes dragged by. Our ears seemed sharper than usual. Mine seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me an' Jonathan, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

Harry walked off with Malfoy and Fang. Neville, Hagrid, and I kept walking for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Just then, we heard a scream.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

"Who was that?" Neville asked, frightened.

"I'm not sure," I said, squinting around, trying to see through the darkness. Then, something jumped at us. It was Malfoy and Fang.

"What happened?" I asked.

"There was this thing –" said Malfoy breathlessly, "it was eating the unicorn. I ran away – Potter's still there –"

"You left Harry there?" I shouted. "You idiot!"

We started walking in the direction Malfoy and Fang came from. I hoped we weren't too late – the alternative was too horrible. And then I saw him – he was riding another centaur.

"Harry!" I yelled. "Harry, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said Harry. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," the centaur, who was blond and had a white horse's body, murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slid off his back.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," said the centaur. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest.

When we came back to the common room, we found Ron sleeping and Dean and Hermione wide awake, waiting for us. After waking up Ron, Harry began to tell us what had happened in the forest. When he and Malfoy had found the unicorn, someone had been drinking its blood – and that someone, as Harry had later found out, was Voldemort.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich..."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear us.

"And we don't know it's Snape," I reminded him. "But we do know it's Voldemort."

"You, too?" Ron said faintly.

"It's just a name," I rolled my eyes.

Harry wasn't listening. "Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so... Bane was furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen... They must show that Voldemort's coming back... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Voldemort to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then he'll be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who –"

"Who?" I asked.

"You know," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, I don't, who are you talking about?" I asked.

"Oh, fine… Voldemort, happy?" she said.

"Not particularly," I shrugged.

"Anyway," she continued, "Dumbledore's the one You-Know – oh, fine, Voldemort, was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know – I mean, Voldemort won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before we stopped talking. We went to bed and I fell straight asleep.

_A/N: Jonathan did know who Hermione was talking about, he was just trying to make her say Voldemort's name. Personally, I never understood why everybody was afraid of saying his name – not even the Jews are afraid of saying Hitler's name and he tried and very nearly succeeded in destroying the Jewish people. Really, it's just a name._

_**Review or VoldeQuirrell will drink your blood.**_


	16. Through the Trapdoor (We Catch A Key)

_A/N: I am now at school, and yes, I do get to bring my laptop. It's awesome, isn't it? I try to squeeze in a few minutes of writing during breaks. Also, trying to finish my summer homework before the first math lesson. I probably should be using the break to do that instead of writing this thing, but, being the huge procrastinator that I am, I use this as an excuse not to do it!_

_Disclaimer_: Jonathan is not canon, therefore I am not JKR.

I wasn't sure exactly why Voldemort hadn't tried to get the stone yet, but I was grateful for that. I had enough to worry about (or not – I never worried about exams) without the thought of Voldemort coming back and trying to take over the United Kingdom. It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where we did our written papers. We had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell. We had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called us one by one into his class to see if we could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched us turn a mouse into a snuffbox - points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape kept breathing down our necks while we made a Forgetfulness potion (although I was forgetful enough without the potion). Our very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and we'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told us to put down our quills and roll up their parchment, we cheered very loudly.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as we joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione always liked to go through exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so we wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

"I don't think that's what he's worried about," I informed him.

Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting - it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I don't know how much she'll know about this – Harry's the only person in history who survived the Killing Curse," I said.

"And I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

"Harry, relax," said Ron. "Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof You-Know-Who found out how to get past Fluffy. He must have seen how Snape nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

I got to my feet. "Why?" I asked.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

"That stranger must have been Voldemort or someone working with him," I said. "And they'd probably know Hagrid wants a dragon."

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

"And that wasn't suspicious?" I asked.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the _Hog's Head_ - that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he - did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, a panicky edge to his voice.

"Well - yeah - how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey - where're yeh goin'?"

We didn't speak to each other at all until we came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was Voldemort under that cloak - it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

"Try asking Fred and George," I suggested.

"But then we'll have to tell them about the Stone. We'll just have to -" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you three doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," I said.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

"It's very important – we can't tell you now," I said.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time –"

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall incredulously.

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor - it's about the Philosopher's Stone -"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up.

"How do you know -?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think - I know - that Voldemort's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But this is Voldemort we're talking about," I said urgently.

"Alderton, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But we didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he made sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we -"

Hermione gasped. Harry, Ron, Dean, and I wheeled round.

Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

We stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were -" Harry began.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harry flushed. We turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.

"Be warned, Potter - any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the rest of us.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape - wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong...'"

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron, Dean, and me. "Come on."

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had we reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Thomas, from my own house!"

We went back to the common room; Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.

We stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"He is mad," I agreed.

"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Voldemort gets hold of the Stone, he's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you lot say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

He glared at us.

"You are mad," I said, "if you think you can go without us."

"Without you?" he repeated.

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?" said Dean.

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."

"But if we get caught, you lot will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

After dinner the five of us sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered us; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments we were about to try to break. None of us talked much. I, for one, was thinking about what we were about to do. Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to our dormitory and came back a few seconds later with the cloak.

"Give it here," I said. He gave it to me. I pulled out my wand.

"_Engorgio_," I said and the cloak became larger. I gave it back to him.

"Thanks," he said. "Anyway, we'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all five of us - if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own -"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at us.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

I glanced at my watch. We really had no time – Voldemort may already have reached the Stone.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll - I'll fight you!"

"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot -"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

Harry turned to Hermione.

"Do something," he said desperately.

Hermione stepped forward.

"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."

She raised her wand.

"_Petrificus totalus_!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.

"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as we stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak.

"Sorry, Neville," I said apologetically.

"Sorry," said Dean.

But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. Every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on us. At the foot of the first set of stairs, we spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered, but Harry shook his head. As we climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on us, but didn't do anything. We didn't meet anyone else until we reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as we climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at us.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

"Peeves," said Harry in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake - I didn't see you - of course I didn't, you're invisible - forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.

"Don't know if that's what the Baron sounds like," I whispered, "but it was still brilliant."

A few seconds later, we were there, outside the third-floor corridor - and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Voldemort's already got past Fluffy."

Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the rest of us.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"He is mad," I said conversationally to Dean.

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met our ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see us.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "You-Know-Who must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."

He took a flute out of his pocket, put it to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. We watched as slowly, the dog's growls ceased - it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as we slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. I could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as we approached the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Anyone want to go?"

"I'll go," I said, stepping forward and over the dog's legs. I bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing," I said, "just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at me and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" I asked. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at me and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," I said.

"See you in a minute, I hope..."

And he let go. I watched anxiously until he disappeared into the darkness. About a minute later, he yelled, "It's okay! It's a soft landing, you can jump!"

"Here goes," I muttered and jumped. Cold, damp air rushed past me as I fell down, down, down and - FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. I sat up and felt around, my eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though I was sitting on some sort of plant.

I looked around and saw Harry. "What's this plant thing?" I asked.

"Dunno," he said.

Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.

"What's this stuff?" were his first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall."

Dean landed next to me.

"Hi," I said to him.

"What is that?" he asked. "A plant?"

"Probably," I said. "Come on, Hermione!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on my other side. "We must be miles under the school," she said.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you all!"

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. I looked down and saw that my legs had been wrapped in the plant thing. I realized that this was the Devil's Snare and stopped struggling. Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on her.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered. "I know what this is - it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Fire!" I said. "You need fire!"

"Yes - of course - but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, I felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from our bodies, and we were able to pull free.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Jonathan," said Harry as we joined Hermione by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis - 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward. All we could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward.

"Can you hear something?" Dean whispered. I listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" asked Ron.

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me," said Harry.

"There's light ahead - I can see something moving," I said.

We reached the end of the passageway and saw before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above us. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked. The rest of us followed him. We tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried the Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

"Since when do birds glitter?" I asked.

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys - look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while the rest of us squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes - look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!" said Ron.

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one," he said, "probably silver, like the handle."

Ron, Harry, and I each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. We grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, Harry called to us, "That one! That big one - there - no, there - with bright blue wings - the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above - Jonathan, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, I rocketed upward, the key dodged us both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and I cheered.

We landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned - it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the rest of us, his hand on the door handle. We nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark we couldn't see anything at all. But as we stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than we were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. I shivered slightly - the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," I said, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

Ron walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at him.

"Do we - er - have to join you to get across?"

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the rest of us.

"This needs thinking about he said. I suppose we've got to take the place of five of the black pieces..."

We stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but none of you are that good at chess -"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle. Jonathan, you take the other bishop, and Dean, take the castle on his side. I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, the bishops, and the castles turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving five empty squares that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean, and I took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. I had faith in Ron – he was the unofficial Gryffindor chess champion.

"Harry - move diagonally four squares to the right."

Our first real shock came when our other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of our men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that we were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think, let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harry, Hermione, Dean, and I shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But -"

"Do you want to stop You-Know-Who or not?"

"Ron -"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out. At least, I hoped it was just that and nothing else.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. We had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, we charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's -?" Dean started

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's," I said, "that was the Devil's Snare."

"Flitwick must've put charms on the keys," said Dean.

"McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive," said Hermione, "that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

We had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled our nostrils, making us all pull our robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as we stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

He pulled open the next door, all of us hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

We stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind us in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. We were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry, Dean, and I looked over her shoulder to read it:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione and I looked at it. Hermione smiled.

"Brilliant," she said. "This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" said Harry.

"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?" asked Dean

"Give us a minute," I said.

Hermione and I looked at the paper, discussing the different options. In the end, we reached the conclusion that –

"The smallest bottle," said Hermione, "will get us through the black fire - toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."

"But it probably refills once you pass," I said. "We know Voldemort's been through here. He must have had the potion. You go ahead – we'll go back and get Ron to the hospital wing. We'll send Hedwig to Dumbledore – maybe he's already back."

Harry nodded. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" he asked.

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"Alright," said Harry. "So grab the brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore - I might be able to hold Voldemort off for a while, but I'm probably no match for him, really."

"You beat him when you were a baby," I said.

"I don't know how," he said. "I just know I did. I'm not sure if I can do whatever I did back then again.""

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry - you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry as she let go of him.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and - oh Harry - be careful!"

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" I said anxiously.

"No - but it's like ice."

"Quick, go," said Harry, "before it wears off."

"Good luck - take care."

"GO!"

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

"My turn," I said, taking the potion and facing the purple flames, which had refilled as soon as Hermione had passed through the fire. I downed it in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding my body. I put the bottle down and walked forward; I braced himself, saw the purple flames licking my body, but couldn't feel them - for a moment I could see nothing but purple fire - then I was on the other side, in the troll chamber. Hermione was already there. Dean soon joined us. The troll was just starting to wake up, but Dean quickly _Wingardium leviofa_'d it and a buffalo fell on its chest, knocking it back out. We continued back into the chess chamber, where Ron was still unconscious and the pieces had reassembled themselves. However, they allowed us through and I rushed over to Ron and checked his pulse, which was stable. I nudged him slightly. He didn't wake. I hit him on the arm. He still didn't wake. Then I remembered something my dad had told me when he was taking a first-aid course – I found the trapezius muscle and squeezed it. He yelled in pain and came round.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"First aid," I said simply, helping him up. "Had to make you come round somehow."

"First what?" he said.

"Never mind," said Dean. "Just go."

We walked in silence towards the broom chamber. When we got there, we took the brooms (Hermione and I, as the two lightest people, shared one) and kicked off. Out the broom chamber, over the Devil's Snare, and out the trapdoor – Fluffy growled at us, but we crashed through the door out into the hallway – we got off our broomsticks and ran towards the owlery but met Dumbledore at the Entrance Hall. He said, "Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?" and, without waiting for our answer, went up to the third floor.

_A/N: So one more chapter and then I AM DONE. Still have six more of these to do, but at least I'm done with P/SS. Then I've got CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, HBP, and DH to go, and they're all considerably longer than this one. In terms of chapters, this book is about one-twelfth of the entire series, and in terms of pages – American version, it's almost one-thirteenth, British version, almost one-fifteenth._

_**Review or the white queen will knock you out.**_


	17. End of Year (We Win The Cups)

_A/N: The final view count for Jonathan Alderton and the Sorcerer's Stone is 736. You guys are awesome! Thanks for reading this thing and I hope it was okay. The reviews I got were good, but if anyone has any criticism, feel free to tell me so I know what to improve!_

_Disclaimer_: For the very last time, I. Am. Not. JKR. Oh wait, got six more of those things. Dammit.

After Dumbledore had gone up, we exchanged one look with one another and then ran upstairs after him. By the time we got there, Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. About a minute later, though, he came out of the corridor carrying Harry, who was unconscious.

"What's wrong with Harry?" I asked.

"He will be fine," said Dumbledore, "once he recovers."

"And the Stone?" asked Dean.

"I shall take it to my office," he said.

"What about Voldemort?" asked Hermione.

"He has fled," said Dumbledore.

"Thanks, sir," said Ron, and we left. After we got out of Dumbledore's hearing range, he said, "You-Know-Who running around somewhere. Scary thought," he shuddered.

"I agree," I said, "and his name is Voldemort, Ron – you might as well use it. He'll try to kill you either way."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically.

By the time we had gotten to the common room, the sun had fully risen. We each went to our respective dormitories. I looked at my watch – it was 4:43 AM. I hadn't realized how exhausted I had been until now and, without a word to Dean or Ron, I fell asleep.

I slept in and was woken up by Hermione and Dean talking in whispers.

"You think he'll be all right, though?" Hermione was saying worriedly.

"Madam Pomfrey knows her job," said Dean. "She said he'll take a couple of days, though."

"Who're you two talking about?" I asked.

"Oh, good, you're awake," said Hermione. "We brought you some breakfast." She handed me a tray with some toast, omelets, bread, butter, porridge, and a jug of pumpkin juice.

"Where'd you get the tray?" I asked, helping myself.

"I didn't – Fred and George got those from the kitchens for you and Ron," she said. "Dean came down at half past eight."

I looked at my watch. 10:19.

"How the bloody hell do you two manage to wake up so early?" I asked.

"I have an alarm clock," said Dean.

"It didn't wake me up, and it's right between our beds," I said.

"I'm more of a morning person, myself," he said. "Probably would've woken up before ten anyway."

"Same with me," said Hermione. "Except I probably would've woken up around that time."

"You two're bloody insane," I shook my head. "So, who were you talking about?"

"Harry," said Hermione.

"Dumbledore took him to the hospital wing," said Dean. "He's still unconscious."

"The whole school has heard about what happened," said Hermione. "People saw the hole we made in the door when we crashed through."

"Wood's been looking for you," said Dean. "He wants to see if Harry can play."

"Not a chance," I said. "The game's tomorrow. I'll have to stand in as Seeker."

"You go tell him that," said Dean.

"Mind getting out so I can get dressed?" I asked Hermione. She nodded and left. I put on my uniform and went down to the common room, where I was greeted by Wood.

"Ah, Alderton," he said. "I've been looking for you. What happened last night?"

"Long story," I said. "Harry probably won't be able to play tomorrow."

"Then you'll have to stand in," said Wood. "The Ravenclaw Seeker is Cho Chang. She's a second year, and she's got a Cleansweep Seven. Nothing on your Nimbus, of course, but she's a damn good player. You'd have to watch out."

The next day, I went nervously down to the Quidditch field. I hoped I could win – I was okay as a Seeker, but I'd seen Cho play against Hufflepuff, and she was very good. Of course, I did have the advantage of a faster broom, but all the speed in the world wouldn't help if she'd already gotten the Snitch.

I barely listened to Wood's pep talk – something about us having to win the Cup and how I had to get the Snitch or die trying ("So no pressure," said Fred – or was that George?) – before going out the locker room to the pitch. I could hear Lee saying, "Hello, and welcome to the Quidditch Cup Final! It's Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw! Each house is here to gain the cup, but only one –" he emitted a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Gryffindor".

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry, Professor. Only one house, the very best, will win!"

Lee's words gave me a boost of confidence. The teams stood in a circle around Madam Hooch, who said, "Keep it clean," and blew her whistle. We kicked off.

"And they're off!" said Lee. "Here goes the Gryffindor team – Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, and Jonathan Alderton, standing in for Harry Potter, who is still unconscious! Preventing the return of You-Know-Who must take a lot out of you…"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry. On the other side, we have the Ravenclaw team – Roger Davies, Jeremy Stretton, Randolph Burrow, Duncan Inglebee, Jason Samuels, Grant Page, and Cho Chang. And the Quaffle is released, followed by the Bludgers and the Snitch. And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, she's a great player but she won't go out with me…"

"JORDAN!"

I squinted around, looking for the Snitch. I was very good at spotting movement, and the sky was blue, so the gold would stand out. I saw Cho Chang, a very pretty second year with Asian features, also looking for the Snitch.

"Johnson passes the Quaffle to Bell, who shoots – it's almost there – GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

I cheered along with the Gryffindors down in the stands and then noticed a golden glint of movement, just by the stands. I swooped down, and sure enough, it was the Snitch. I immediately started chasing it, flying around one of the stands. I heard Hermione scream as I flew between her and Dean. Cho was coming on behind me, but then I caught the Snitch in front of Malfoy's eyes.

"ALDERTON CAUGHT THE SNITCH!" yelled Lee. "GRYFFINDOR WON 170-0! GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!"

I smirked at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and, before they could flip my broom over, I flew over to the rest of the Gryffindor team. We had a group hug, and I saw Professor McGonagall waving a large Gryffindor banner and then shaking hands with Professor Flitwick. Dumbledore came down from the stands, beaming, and gave us the Quidditch cup. Then, I was suddenly lifted by a crowd of Gryffindors and they carried me over to the locker room. After taking off my Quidditch robes, I went back outside, where I was greeted by something with bushy brown hair smothering me.

"Hermione, I want to live!" I choked.

"Sorry," she said, beaming.

"Well done, mate," said Dean, also beaming.

"WE WON THE CUP!" shouted Ron, clapping me on the back. "There's a party up in the common room, you've got to come! Fred and George brought some food from the kitchens!"

"All right, all right," I said, grinning. I couldn't believe it. We had won.

We went up to the common room, and Dean and Ron told me what the game looked like from their perspective.

"And then you came, dive-bombing us, and we thought you were losing your bloody mind," said Ron.

"You nearly killed me, mate," said Dean.

"Sorry," I said, still grinning.

"It's not funny," Hermione said, amused.

"Are you sure?" I asked her. She laughed.

"And then you came around to the Slytherins," said Ron.

"You should've seen the look on Malfoy's face when I caught the Snitch," I said, chuckling at the memory. "It was priceless."

We went into the common room, and we were greeted by everyone cheering. Everyone wanted to shake my hand, to congratulate me. It seemed as though the two months of everyone hating us for losing all those points were over.

The next day, we went to see Harry at the hospital wing. When we got there, we heard Dumbledore and Harry talking. We waited for them to finish, and then, when Dumbledore walked out, we heard Harry pleading with Madam Pomfrey.

"Just five minutes," he said.

"Absolutely not," said Madam Pomfrey.

"You let Professor Dumbledore in..." he said pleadingly.

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let us in.

"Harry!" said Hermione. "Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to -"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told us what happened:

"I went into the room where the stone was, expecting Snape or even Voldemort – but it wasn't either of them. It was Quirrell."

Hermione, Ron, and Dean gasped. I said, "I knew there was something fishy about him."

"Anyway, he told me all about how he was the one who let the troll in on Halloween – he said he had an 'exceptional gift with trolls' –"

"I did find it a bit suspicious that he put a troll as his protection," I admitted.

"– and how he tried to kill me at the Quidditch match, and Snape was trying to protect me – apparently he was trying to confuse Quirrell –"

"I did bump into Quirrell when I set Snape on fire," Hermione recalled.

"– and then he took off his turban, and it turned out he had Voldemort on the back of his head the whole time."

Hermione screamed. Ron and Dean looked shocked. I said, "So it was Voldemort who was threatening him that day you saw him!"

"Yeah," he said. "Voldemort tried to talk me into joining him, but I refused. Then Quirrell tried to strangle me."

We all gasped at this one.

"And then I touched him, and his hand got burned."

"What?" I said, confused.

"Dumbledore explained that to me – my mother sacrificed herself to save me, which is how I survived Voldemort's curse, and because of that, Voldemort can't touch me. Anyway, he tried to strangle me again, and this time I got his face, and then I went out cold. When I woke up, Dumbledore was there, and he explained what happened."

"What about the Stone?" I whispered.

"He and Flamel talked, and it was destroyed."

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed.

"So what happened to you?" said Harry.

"Well, we got back all right," said Hermione. "Jonathan brought Ron round –"

"Painfully," Ron said, massaging his shoulder.

"- and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall - he already knew – he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Dean. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione exploded, "if he did - I mean to say that's terrible - you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could..."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course – just barely, thanks to Jonathan winning the game against Ravenclaw – but the food'll be good."

"How was the game?" asked Harry.

"Great," Dean laughed. "Jonathan nearly killed us trying to get the Snitch –"

"It wasn't my fault it was flying over the stands!" I said indignantly. "But you should've seen the look on Malfoy's face when I caught it, it was priceless."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT" she said firmly.

The next day was the end-of-year feast. The Great Hall was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. Harry was pretty much the last one there. When he got in, there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and me at the Gryffindor table. Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Ravenclaw, with two hundred and seventy-six points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Gryffindor has four hundred and forty-two and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. I could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House twenty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House twenty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – we had won the House Cup.

"Third – to Mr. Jonathan Alderton… for not losing his head when ropes tighten, I award Gryffindor House twenty points."

We cheered even more – we were now thirty points ahead of Slytherin.

"Fourth - to Mr. Dean Thomas... for staying calm and going all the way with his friends, I award Gryffindor House twenty points."

Now we were fifty points ahead. Could this get any better?

"Fifth – to Mr. Harry Potter…" said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house thirty points."

The din was deafening. Gryffindor now had five hundred and fifty-two points – way ahead of Slytherin. Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. We all stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before.

Dean, still cheering, nudged me in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, whose face was more priceless than when I'd caught the Snitch in front of his eyes. We'd won the House Cup by the largest gap in five hundred years.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile.

The next morning, we got our exam results. Hermione and I were tied for first place; Ron, Harry, and Dean were in the top ten. Neville's Herbology mark was tied with Hermione's and mine, making up for his abysmal Potions one. We had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, it was time to go; notes were handed out to us all, warning them not to use magic over the holidays except with the family and closest friends for Muggle-borns ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take us down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; we were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as we sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into Platform Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross Station. It took quite a while for us all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting us go through the gate in twos and threes so we didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to."

People jostled us as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

He and Ron passed through the gateway together, followed by Dean, Hermione, and me.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!"

It was a small red-haired girl who could only be Ron's younger sister.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mum! I can see –"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

A plump, red-haired woman smiled down at us.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear," she said fondly.

"Ready, are you?"

It was a short, beefy, purple-faced, mustachioed man. Behind him stood a tall, skinny, blonde woman and a boy who looked very much like his father except he was blond, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Harry's uncle. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

"Hang on," I said. They turned around.

"I know you're abusing Harry," I said in a low voice. "And if you touch him this summer, you'll very much regret it."

"And what can a scrawny midget like you do?" Harry's uncle sneered. I pulled out my wand. They all backed up. Satisfied, I put it back in my pocket and walked back to the others.

"Hey," I said to Harry. "If they do anything to you, give me a shout."

"You really don't –" he said uncomfortably.

"I really do," I said shortly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "See you during the summer, then."

"Have a nice summer?" Hermione said uncertainly, looking back at Harry's so-called family.

"Oh, I will," he grinned. "You see, Dudley doesn't know I'm not allowed to do magic."

And he left. After a quick goodbye, Ron left with his family. The rest of us stayed there, waiting for someone to come. Then, I saw Mrs. Thomas walking towards us.

"Mum!" said Dean, running towards her and hugging her.

"How was your year?" she asked. "How are you, Jonathan, Hermione?"

"Fine," said Hermione.

"We had a very interesting year," I said.

"You can tell me all about it," she said. "I agreed with your parents that I'll be taking you two home."

"Thanks, Mrs. Thomas," I said.

"No problem," she replied as we walked outside of the station.

So we leave off here. But this is not the end – look out for more next year!

_A/N: Wow, I'm done. Can't believe it. It seems like only yesterday I was opening my laptop and saying, "Hey, I have all those ideas in my head, why not write them down," and now I'm done with the first part. Stay tuned for Jonathan Alderton and the Chamber of Secrets!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_Tak for læsning!_

_תודה על הקריאה__!_

_Dzięki za czytanie!_

_Go raibh maith agat le haghaidh léamh!_

_पढ़ने के लिए धन्यवाद__!_

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_Tack för läsning!_

_Danke fürs Lesen!_

_Gracias por leer!_

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_Tänud lugemise eest!_

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_شكرا للقراءة__!_

_Salamat sa pagbabasa!_

_Ačiū už skaitymą!_

_感謝您的__閱讀！_

_Спасибі за читання!_

_**Review or Jonathan will dive-bomb you.**_

_**Revision eller Jonathan vil dykke bombe dig.**_

_**הגיבו או שג**__**'**__**ונתן יעשה לכם צלילת פצצה**__**.**_

_**Przegląd i Jonathan będą nurkować-zbombardować cię.**_

_**Beidh Athbhreithnithe nó Jonathan Léim-buama tú.**_

_**समीक्षा अथवा जोनाथन आप गोता**__**-**__**बम जाएगा**__**.**_

_**Revue ou Jonathan vous dive-bomb.**_

_**Recensera eller Jonathan kommer dyka-bomba dig.**_

_**Review oder Jonathan wird Sturzflug Sie.**_

_**Revisión o Jonathan le bucear-bomba.**_

_**Review of Jonathan zal duiken-bombarderen u.**_

_**Deixe seu comentário ou Jonathan vai mergulhar-bomba você.**_

_**Ulasan atau Jonathan akan menyelam-bom Anda.**_

_**Review või Jonathan sukelduda pomm teid.**_

_**Scrivi una recensione o Jonathan si tufferanno-bomba voi.**_

_**Рецензию или Джонатан окунетесь-бомбить вас.**_

_**مراجعة أو جوناثان سوف الغوص قنبلة لك**__**.**_

_**Suriin o Jonathan ay sumisid-bomba mo.**_

_**Peržiūrėti arba Jonathanas neria bomba jums.**_

_**審**__**查或喬納森將俯衝轟炸你。**_

_**Рецензію або Джонатан поринете-бомбити вас.**_


	18. Update

_A/N: Chamber of Secrets is now up._

**_Read it or you will be hit in the back of the head by an owl, Professor McGonagall will stalk you, you will be beaten at chess every time you play, you will be plagued with the stutters, your best friend will forcibly drag you to their favorite shop, you will be stuck in a cave full of POISON IVY, your head will be infested with lice, Fred's queen will knock you silly, Fluffy will EAT YOU, a buffalo will fall out of the sky on you, Hermione will burn you up, everybody will forget English and you'll sound like a broken record, you will get a black eye, Norbert will set you on fire, VoldeQuirrell hatwill drink your blood, the white queen will knock you out, and Jonathan will dive-bomb you. Not necessarily in that order._**


End file.
